


Gift

by littlebirdtold



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Alternate Universe, Angst, Codependency, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2013-09-27
Packaged: 2017-12-27 18:42:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 30,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlebirdtold/pseuds/littlebirdtold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spock gets a small golden-haired, blue-eyed creature as a gift from his father (except he doesn't). The creature speaks in his nurse's Secret Language, appears to be convinced that Spock is an "elf" and calls itself "Jim." Utterly fascinated, Spock decides to keep it. </p><p>Very AU. Set on an extremely xenophobic Vulcan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is the story of the Jimmy from [ Once Upon a Time](http://archiveofourown.org/works/974800)'s epilogue, but you don't need to have read Once Upon a Time to understand this fic.

**~*~**

  
  
  
There was something living in the box.   
  
Whatever the creature was, it was making a very loud noise, and Spock came to the conclusion that it would be prudent of him to open the box before the noise could awaken the house.  
  
Since the box had been put ten-point-three feet away from Spock's room, there was a ninety-two-point-eight-three percent probability that the creature was his father's gift to him for K'Sver, the Children's Day. Therefore, Spock decided, he had the full right to open the box. In fact, he probably should open it before the creature could harm itself.  
  
Tilting his head, Spock examined the box. It was too small to contain even a young sehlat. Perhaps it was a foreign creature? Spock knew there were many unknown creatures in Kavigaar Mountains, and his father certainly had the means to acquire even alien creatures due to his position as the Head of the Vulcan Security Forces.   
  
His curiosity heightened, Spock stepped closer to the box and kneeled before it. Locating the lock, he began to work on it. He was not concerned about the possible danger, confident that Father would not give him a dangerous creature.  
  
The lock was not very complicated, and, six-point-five-eight minutes later, the box unfolded, revealing a small creature.   
  
Spock stared at it. The creature stared back, a thumb in its mouth, blue eyes looking huge on its small face. While the creature remarkably resembled a Vulcan child, it had most curious tiny round ears, pinkish skin, and the most fascinating golden hair, the likes of which Spock had never seen. Indeed, if Spock were not Vulcan, he would have thought that the creature looked like an angel from Nurse T'Amanda's stories, but, since he was a Vulcan, he merely concluded that the present was to his satisfaction and made a note to thank Father.  
  
Feeling inappropriately excited, Spock gave the creature his hand and waited for its reaction, wondering if the creature was intelligent enough to understand what he wished. The creature stared at Spock's hand with those huge blue eyes before grabbing it and rising to its feet.   
  
Spock was pleased to note that the creature apparently possessed a degree of intelligence.  
  
"Where the heck am I?" the creature said, looking around, and Spock froze, staring at it wide-eyed.  
  
The creature was sentient. What an unexpected development.   
  
"You're an elf?" the creature said when Spock had not responded.   
  
The creature was not speaking in Vulcan, yet Spock could understand it perfectly. It was speaking in the language Nurse T'Amanda used sometimes. Spock distinctly remembered that, when he had been an infant, his nurse had used the language constantly, singing to him and speaking to him in it, but Spock got the impression that, for some reason, she thought he could not understand her (which puzzled Spock to no end).   
  
As he had grown older, his nurse started using the language less and less in his presence. When Spock had inquired from her what language it was, Nurse T'Amanda pretended that she did not understand what he was talking about and changed the subject. She had  _lied_ , and it bewildered him. Vulcans did not lie—Father told him that—and yet his nurse had.   
  
Perhaps she had had a reason. Perhaps it was a Secret. Nurse T'Amanda was an enigma; no one knew much about her. Spock was personally of the opinion that T'Amanda was from Kavigaar Mountains. There were hundreds of small tribes there who still clung to ancient customs and spoke extinct languages, refusing to accept Surak's teachings and speak in Standard Vulcan. Perhaps Nurse T'Amanda belonged to one of them. It would certainly explain why she was so expressive and emotional compared to other adults of Spock's acquaintance.   
  
Although T'Amanda had not taught Spock the language intentionally, Spock found that he knew the language quite well, thanks to the fact that he had been constantly subjected to it when he was an infant. Spock was not certain why T'Amanda thought that he did not remember anything—everyone knew that Vulcan children possessed an excellent memory since birth, and Spock was no exception. Spock was also very observant and intelligent for his age, so he had taught the language to himself. It was not easy to figure out grammar rules, but Spock was nothing if not dedicated—he carefully recalled his memories of T'Amanda talking to him one by one, and made notes. It was fortunate that, compared to Vulcan, the language was rather simple.   
  
Of course, if Spock had not constantly heard the language when he was an infant, it would have undoubtedly been much more difficult to learn it. Now, after three years of conscious studying, Spock was quite proficient, although he would not say he was fluent.   
  
The question was, how did  _this_ creature know the Secret Language?  
  
"What is an 'elf'?" Spock said, not letting go of the creature's hand. Such behavior was highly inappropriate among adults, but not among children. He rather enjoyed the feel of the creature's small hand in his.  
  
The golden-haired creature blinked before lifting its other hand and touching Spock's ear.   
  
"Your ears!" it said, smiling. "You're an elf!"  
  
"I am not," Spock said, puzzled. "I am Spock. It is my name."  
  
"I'm not talking about your name, silly!" the creature said, and Spock frowned. He was not slow-witted. He opened his mouth to say so when the creature said, "I'm Jim."  
  
Spock blinked. A name.  
  
"Again, I am known as Spock," he said. "It is a pleasure to meet you."  
  
"You talk weird," Jim said, cocking its head. "But I like you."  
  
"Are you a male or female of your species?" Spock asked, unable to determine it himself. The creature was very aesthetically pleasing, so Spock was inclined to think that the creature was female, because usually females were more aesthetically pleasing in any species.   
  
Jim frowned. "What? I'm a boy! Are you blind?"  
  
"It was not my intention to offend you," Spock said quickly. "You are very pleasing to the eye, so it was difficult to determine."  
  
"You talk weird," Jim repeated, biting his thumb again. He looked around the room. "Where am I? I don't know this place."   
  
Spock could vaguely sense Jim's emotions through their joined hands and frowned. He did not like that this Jim was distressed.  
  
"You are in my house," he said, squeezing Jim's hand. "Do not be afraid. You are not in any danger. I will not let any harm come to you."  
  
Jim looked at him blankly, as if he did not understand the meaning of Spock's words. Spock wondered if his grasp of the language was adequate. He was sure that his grammar was impeccable, but he was not sure about his pronunciation. The words felt foreign and awkward on his tongue because of the lack of practice.  
  
"I'm hungry," Jim said uncertainly, as though expecting that Spock would refuse to feed him.  
  
Spock fought the illogical urge to wrap his arms around Jim. "Come," he said, tugging Jim to the kitchen by his hand.  
  
Once there, Spock helped Jim climb onto the chair, because it was too high for him. It was not difficult; Jim was very light and small.   
  
Before long, Spock was watching Jim eat.  
  
"It's a freaking huge house," Jim said around the mouthful of pie. "Like a castle or something."  
  
Spock's eyebrows furrowed. "The city house is not huge. Our country residence is approximately 3.7 times bigger."   
  
Jim looked at him with wide eyes. They were very blue. "Wow, really?"  
  
Spock inclined his head. "My nurse and I are returning to the country house in 4.3 days. Of course, you will come with us."  
  
Jim bit his lip, opened his mouth as if to say something, but then closed it.  
  
"It appears you wish to ask me something," Spock pressed. "Ask."  
  
Jim chewed on his bottom lip. "Is this my new home?" he asked uncertainly, his face going pink. "Can I stay here?"  
  
Spock watched the pink blush, utterly fascinated. "Of course it is. This is my house, and, since you are my Jim, it means that it is yours, too."  
  
Jim frowned a little, looking at him in confusion. "Your Jim?" he said slowly. "So that means you're my elf?"  
  
"I am not an elf," Spock repeated, frowning, as well. "I am Spock."  
  
Jim smiled and took another bite from the pie. "OK, not an elf, got it. You'll be my Spock, then."  
  
Spock felt his lips curl up a bit. Jim grinned at him—a most fascinating facial expression—and Spock felt odd warmth in the region of his heart.   
  
Although he did not have sufficient data to think so, he found himself considering that this was the best present ever. 

~*~

  
  
After Jim finished eating and they attended the bathroom, Spock led him to his bedroom. He gave Jim one of his pajamas, and after they changed, they climbed into Spock's bed.  
  
"You're very warm," Jim murmured sleepily, pressing his face to Spock's shoulder.   
  
"Is this uncomfortable for you?"  
  
"Nope," Jim said, shifting even closer to him. The sensation of someone so close to him was new to Spock, but not unpleasant. Jim sighed happily. "Hate being cold. Was always so cold."  
  
Spock frowned, but decided not to inquire, since he sensed that Jim was falling asleep.  
  
"Didn't think he was the real Santa," Jim muttered barely audibly before his breathing became calm and even.  
  
Spock watched him sleep in fascination.

~*~  
 

  
Spock woke with a jolt from the quiet yelp. Opening his eyes, he found Nurse T'Amanda looking down at him, her mouth slack and eyes huge.  
  
For a moment, he was taken aback before he remembered about Jim's presence in the bed with him. Jim was still sound asleep, his thin body curled next to him, face pressed into Spock's neck, a small hand squeezing Spock's pajamas tightly.  
  
"Shh," Spock said to his nurse before looking back to Jim. He presented a fascinating sight.  
  
"Spock, who is this?" T'Amanda whispered, making Spock tear his gaze away from his Jim.  
  
"This is Jim," he said, eyebrows furrowed. "Have Father not mentioned anything about him? Or was I supposed not to open my gift until the morning?"  
  
She frowned. "Spock, what are you talking about? Are you saying that you think that this—this  _boy_ is your present for the Children's Day?"  
  
Spock blinked. "He is not? Are you positive?"  
  
"I'm positive, baby," T'Amanda said softly, throwing a strange look at Jim.  
  
"I am not a baby," Spock informed her for the two-hundred and seventeenth time. He put an arm around Jim, feeling an emotion he recognized as distress. "You must be mistaken. Jim is mine. He told me so."  
  
T'Amanda stared at him.   
  
"I'll go after your father, Spock," she said finally, darting another odd glance at Jim.   
  
She was absent for eight-point-seven minutes, during which Spock alternated between watching Jim and worrying.   
  
Jim  _was_ his, was he not? What if it had been a mistake and they would wish to take him away?  
  
Spock was not certain why the thought distressed him so much. Vulcans did not get emotionally attached; Father had told him so numerous times.  
  
"Spock."   
  
Spock flinched and snapped his gaze from the sleeping boy to his father. T'Amanda stood next to him, the same strange expression on her face.  
  
"Father," Spock said, carefully pulling away from Jim and sitting up. To his surprise, Jim did not even stir; he must have been exhausted.  
  
Sarek regarded Jim for six seconds before looking at T'Amanda. They exchanged a look Spock did not understand.  
  
Finally, Sarek looked back at him. "Spock, what is this...  _creature_ doing in your bed?" he said slowly, his expression blank, as always.  
  
Spock lifted his chin up. "This is my Jim."  
  
Sarek stared at him. T'Amanda sighed. "I told you," she muttered, barely audible.  
  
"Who gave you permission to open that box?" Sarek said coldly.  
  
Spock resisted the urge to squirm under his father's heavy gaze. He was a Vulcan. Vulcans did not squirm.  
  
"The box was ten-point-three feet away from my door," Spock said, making an effort to make his voice sound as calm and cold as his father's. "It was only logical of me to—"  
  
"Your logic was faulty," Sarek interrupted. "This creature was not intended as a present for you. There was a mistake with the delivery. The box should have been sent to my office before being forwarded to the Department of Alien Investigations." Sarek's gaze flickered to the sleeping boy. "Apparently this creature was among the contraband cargo that was confiscated yesterday."  
  
Spock stared at him, unable to form any words. He looked at Jim, then back to his father.  
  
"May I keep him?" he asked finally, already knowing the answer.  
  
"No," Sarek said firmly. "He is a dangerous alien creature and should be reported to the appropriate authorities."  
  
"Authorities?" Spock repeated, an uneasiness settling in his stomach. "What would they do to him?"  
  
Sarek gave him a look. "You know what they will do, Spock; you are not unintelligent. The Department of Alien Investigations will determine the creature's homeplanet and if it presents a danger to Vulcan."  
  
"And after that?" Spock prompted, grabbing Jim's hand. Jim was not dangerous. Jim was his.  
  
"After that—"  
  
"Sarek!" T'Amanda snapped.  
  
Spock stared at her, somewhat surprised. His nurse had never raised her voice before, much less towards his father.  
  
The noise seemed to finally awaken Jim. He mumbled something sleepily before opening his eyes. He blinked a few times before fixing his blue eyes on Spock. Jim stared at him, then smiled. Spock felt that odd warmth in the region of his heart again.   
  
"Hey," Jim murmured, squeezing Spock's hand. "Thought it was just a dream."  
  
Before Spock could reply, Sarek cleared his throat.   
  
Spock gathered all his courage and met Sarek's eyes. "Father, this is Jim. He will stay with me."  
  
Something shifted in Sarek's eyes. "Is that so?" he said, his voice dangerously even.  
  
Spock refused to be intimidated. He was a Vulcan. Spock squeezed Jim's hand. "Affirmative. I promised Jim that this was his home, and Vulcans keep their promises. You are the one who told me that, Father."  
  
From the corner of his eyes Spock could see that Nurse T'Amanda was smiling slightly, but he kept his gaze firmly on Sarek. "My baby is all grown up," he heard her murmur under her breath in the Secret Language.   
  
"Indeed," Sarek said. "Vulcans do keep their promises. However, Vulcans also do not break the law. We cannot keep an alien in our house, Spock. Do you know what the consequences will be if someone finds out? Even my position in the Vulcan High Council will not save us."  
  
"No one will find out," Spock said firmly. "Jim will hide when we have guests. Jim?"  
  
Jim looked at him blankly, which made Spock realize that they were all speaking in Vulcan. Spock explained the situation and repeated the question using Secret Language, seeing both T'Amanda and Sarek stiffen in his peripheral vision.  
  
"Spock, how do you know this language?" his nurse said sharply.  
  
"That is irrelevant at the moment," Spock replied, still looking inquiringly at Jim.  
  
Jim nodded, putting a thumb in his mouth. "I'll hide," he mumbled, biting it. "I'm good at hiding."  
  
Sarek stared at them before looking at T'Amanda, but she was busy watching Jim suck his thumb.   
  
Sarek heaved a resigned sigh. "Very well. The boy can stay."  
  
Jim and Spock looked at each other and squeezed their clasped hands.

~*~  
 

**Interlude I**

  
  
  
Amanda blamed the Klingons.   
  
If Klingon Empire hadn't invaded Vulcan and kept that proud race in slavery for nearly one hundred and fifty years four centuries ago, Vulcans wouldn't have been as xenophobic and paranoid as they were now. Because of  _Klingons_ , she’d had to pluck her eyebrows and hide her ears for years to keep her identity secret. Because of Klingons, she couldn't go in public or do anything else that would give away that she wasn't Vulcan. Because of Klingons, she couldn't marry the man she loved. Because of Klingons, her own child called her Nurse T'Amanda. Because of Klingons, she didn't know how it felt to be called  _mother_.   
  
She couldn't help but think that Klingons had screwed up her whole life.   
  
But, ironically, if it weren't for Klingons, she probably would have never met Sarek or had Spock. Ever since the Great Insurrection, after Vulcans overthrew the Klingons and forced them to leave Vulcan space, Vulcans were extremely hostile and suspicious of other species. They had banned aliens from entering Vulcan space, and, for a few centuries, Vulcan had been completely isolated.   
  
But, unsurprisingly, as the time passed and memories of slavery started to fade, there appeared groups of Vulcans who were  _curious_ of other species and other worlds. The reasons for their interest varied from scientific to sexual, but, since there was a demand, there was a supply, thanks to Orion slave traders.   
  
She had been eighteen.   
  
She had heard of Vulcans, of course – who hadn't? Vulcans were known in the Milky Way as a secluded species who had overthrown Klingons. Not much was known about Vulcans, but they were feared. Earth achieved warp capability after the Great Resurrection, so, as far as Amanda knew, no Human ever met a Vulcan.   
  
Until herself.  
  
If it weren't for Klingons, Amanda would have never been abducted by Orions with the intention to be sold to some radical group of Vulcans and would have never met Sarek, who had intercepted the contraband cargo.  
  
Amanda never thought she'd be the first Human to ever meet a Vulcan—but she also never thought that she was the type of girl to fall in love from the first sight. She'd turned out to be wrong on both counts.   
  
She was pretty sure that it was love from the first sight for Sarek, too, even though her stubborn Vulcan would never admit it. He always insisted that he hadn't given her to the DAI because he pitied her. (That thing about Vulcans' inability to lie? Total bullshit.)  
  
Love at first sight or not, it had taken her seven months of living in Sarek's house to finally seduce him.   
  
Two years later, after Sarek's pon farr, she found out that she was carrying a child.  
  
 _It is impossible_ , Sarek had said. She had been just as shocked as him; they hadn't thought that she could become pregnant.   
  
A hybrid. They didn't know if she would be able to carry the baby to the term. They had no idea what the baby would look like—if it even would be healthy. Having that child was too dangerous, and not only for medical reasons. But, even considering everything, Amanda was happy—happy to have a child with the man she loved.  
  
Sarek found a trusted doctor for her, and months of waiting began.  
  
When Healer Stuvok laid a pointy-eared, green-blooded baby in her arms, with ten perfect little fingers and toes, the first emotion she felt was an overwhelming sense of relief; the second, happiness; and the third, sadness. She was relieved that her child wouldn't have to hide all his life like she had, but she knew what it meant for her. It had been her decision that, if her baby looked like Vulcans, they should raise him as a Vulcan, with no knowledge of his human heritage. It hurt that her son would never call her 'Mother,' but she knew he would be safer that way—as a child, Spock would have no ability to guard his thoughts from his tutors while they taught him how to meditate and such. Spock simply couldn't know that he was half-human.  
  
Therefore, Sarek took Spock to his House's matriarch T'Pau to register him as his heir and told her that Spock's mother was dead.   
  
Her baby was declared Spock, son of Sarek, grandson of Skon, the heir of the House of Surak.   
  
Amanda became Nurse T'Amanda. She hated it with all her heart, but she didn't regret it. She got to watch her son make his first steps and say his first words. How could she regret any of it when a two-year-old Spock wrapped his tiny warm arms around her neck and told her that she was the best nurse in the world and that he loved her, but she shouldn't tell his father?   
  
She was happy her son was a content, confident child. Yes, her life might have been better, but she was with the man she loved and who loved her back and had the best child in the world.  
  
And then came Jim. Jim, with his bright smiles, golden hair and baby-blue eyes, put their lives in chaos.  
  
With Jim, her old fears reared their ugly heads.   
  
Amanda wasn't very worried about being caught herself. Luckily, she had dark hair and eyes, and her pale skin didn't blush easily; with plucked eyebrows and covered ears, she could easily pass for a Vulcan on the rare occasions she left the house.  
  
But Jim... There was no way Jim could pass for a Vulcan. His fair complexion aside, Jim was a very emotional child. He was a joy to watch: always moving, smiling, and laughing. As much as Amanda loved her Spock for his seriousness and quietness, Jim was the type of child at whom people—humans—cooed. Amanda adored him to bits and couldn't deny that she loved having another human being with her—sometimes it really was lonely—but, ever since Jim had joined their little family, she lived in constant fear.  
  
Although she carefully explained the dangerousness of the situation to Jim, he was just a child—a very intelligent one, but still just a child. She was scared that he didn't understand the seriousness of the situation. Considering Jim's endless energy and rich imagination, Amanda was sure that it was only a matter of time before Jim got into trouble or got Spock into one.   
  
But as the time passed and nothing had happened, she started relaxing.  
  
She and the boys lived most of the time in the country house, away from the excitement and danger of Shi’Kahr, while Sarek traveled between Shi’Kahr and T'Paal, the town on the outskirts of their country house.   
  
It was a quiet, but happy life. It was a joy to watch Spock and Jim together, to watch them discuss something seriously (Spock) or excitedly (Jim). They were as close as brothers, and the thought made Amanda ridiculously happy, because Jimmy was like a son to her, and she loved him as much as she loved her own son. Sometimes she wondered what had become of Jim's real parents. She could only imagine how hard it must have been for them to lose Jim.   
  
Jim didn't remember his parents. In fact, he didn't remember anything about his life before he woke up on a street in San Francisco a few months before he ended up on Vulcan. He only knew his first name and how old he was, but didn't remember anything else about his origins; it seemed like Jim had amnesia. Amanda suspected that Jim was from a good family, since he was highly educated for his years. His vocabulary was very extensive for a five-year-old—as was his knowledge of curse words, much to Amanda's horror and amusement. It was hardly surprising, though, considering that Jim had lived on the streets for months.  
  
Unlike Amanda, Jim didn't remember being captured by Orions. Jim had told her an unbelievable story of how he made a wish on a star and met a Santa, who promised that Jim would have a home and a friend he had wished for. Amanda was sure Jim had made it all up but pretended to believe him—she wasn't exactly eager to tell the child that Santa wasn't real.  
  
Jim turned out to be very bright; he learned Vulcan in no time and soon spoke better than her. However, Amanda knew that Jim and Spock spoke in English when they were alone—or, more precisely, in a weird mix of Vulcan and English—which didn't please her in the least, but there was nothing she could do about it. The topic was a taboo in their house.   
  
And it had been her own choice.   
  
Two weeks after Jim began living with them, the boys approached her about the obvious fact that Amanda spoke Jim's language and therefore couldn't be what she claimed to be.  
  
"You're human, like me," Jim had said, standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Spock.   
  
Amanda looked at Jim, then at Spock—at his small serious face she adored with all her heart—and couldn't tell them the truth.  
  
She knew the truth would crush Spock. He was raised with the knowledge that he was the heir of the House of Surak, that he belonged to the purest and most ancient Vulcan bloodline, and that he was to take a great place in society. Amanda hated T'Pau for burdening her son with her words and her expectations, but there was nothing she could do about it. The truth was, she was just Spock's nanny, while T'Pau was his blood—at least in Spock's eyes. Spock thrived on T'Pau's attention, drinking in her every word with the eagerness of his youth.  
  
So she hadn't told Spock and Jim the truth. Instead, she said that yes, she was a human, but she'd rather not discuss it further for personal reasons, which was true enough. She didn’t want to lie to them directly, and she hadn’t.  
  
Since then, the boys hadn't spoken about it to her again, and, in return, Amanda turned a deaf ear whenever they spoke in English. She wasn't sure why the boys had never brought up the subject again, but she was grateful, because she wouldn’t have known how to reply if they had.   
  
Thankfully, Jim and Spock seemed too completely engrossed in each other to question her presence in the house, even as they grew too old to have a nanny. They probably assumed that Sarek was hiding her from the authorities out of pity and had been letting her live in the house for so many years for the same very reason.  
  
Or maybe they simply didn't care.  
  
The thought hurt hellishly, but she couldn't push it away. Sometimes, when Sarek was away and she felt particularly lonely, she thought that the boys didn't much care whether she was living with them or not. It had been years since Spock had hugged her, and Jim was becoming less and less affectionate every year as well. She tried to convince herself that it was normal for teenagers, that it was normal for Spock to want some distance from her—she knew he was struggling to be a perfect Vulcan to please his father and T'Pau—but it still hurt.   
  
It wasn't that the boys treated her like a stranger; not at all. She knew they were reasonably fond of her, but as they grew older, they became more distant from her, preferring to spend time only with each other.  
  
Speaking of which... Sometimes, the closeness between Spock and Jim worried her. They were attached at the hip to the point that they finished each other's sentences and understood one another without a word. They were awfully dependent on each other. If Spock wasn't in the mood, then Jim wasn't in the mood, either, and vise versa.   
  
As children, they had hated being away from each other, and no matter how firmly Amanda had told them to sleep in separate beds, more often than not she found them curled up together in the morning. Finally, she’d given up, letting them sleep wherever they wished and thinking that they would outgrow it soon enough in their desires to be independent.  
  
Except they hadn't. Years passed, and she watched them only become more entangled in one another. They were _JimandSpock_ , always together, always  _one_.  
  
And it scared her. It was too dangerous. If... She didn't even want to think of that, but she knew that if something happened to one of them, the other would be completely devastated.  
  
She could only hope and pray that it never came to that.


	2. Part I: Spock

  
 

 _2250_  
 _Vulcan_  
  
  
Spock opened his eyes when he heard the familiar footsteps. Two-point-seven seconds later, the door to his bedroom opened and closed. Five-point-four seconds later, the mattress dipped as Jim slid under the covers.  
  
"Amanda will be disappointed if she finds you here again," Spock said as Jim's body pressed against him.   
  
Jim chuckled into Spock's clothed shoulder. "Like it'd be the first time. Don't wanna sleep in my room. It's too cold now, and too hot during the day."  
  
"I find it unlikely, considering that you can change environmental settings," Spock said dryly, pressing his nose against Jim's silky hair and registering an increase of dopamine and serotonin levels in his brain.  
  
"Don't you want me here?" Jim teased him in a mock-hurt tone, his voice somewhat rough.  
  
Spock was still getting used to the changes that had occurred to Jim recently. In addition to the change of his voice, Jim's face had become more mature, his jawline firmer. He had grown three inches only in the last two months and finally gained some weight and muscle mass, much to Amanda's delight.   
  
"The question is illogical," Spock responded, wrapping an arm around Jim's waist. He knew that he should not be doing this; such behavior was hardly appropriate now that they were not children. They should have ceased touching so freely the moment Spock's touch-telepathic abilities had fully manifested. In fact, Spock should have  _wished_ to cease touching Jim, because he was supposed to be uncomfortable with such a touch; but he was not. Sometimes Spock wondered if something was wrong with him. He was a Vulcan. Everyone knew that Vulcans experienced high discomfort from being subjected to another person's proximity, but Spock...  _enjoyed_ touching Jim. Instead of disappearing, his enjoyment only intensified with time.   
  
Lately, Spock had been registering the release of an inordinate amount of dopamine and serotonin in his body every time he held Jim. The sensation was.... heady. He felt almost dizzy with pleasure, the reason for which he could not understand.   
  
It was highly disconcerting, to say the least. Yet Spock could not cease.  
  
"What are you thinking about?" Jim murmured, snuggling even closer. Spock could feel Jim's heart beating against his arm, which caused the usual surge of wonder and fear in him. He could not help but think how different Jim's body was from his own, despite looking somewhat similar; he could not help but think that if Jim became injured or ill, there would be no one to help him or cure him.   
  
The thought made his throat constrict, and Spock tightened his arm around Jim, pulling him closer, until Jim was lying half on top of him.  
  
 _Emotional attachment is illogical_ , he recalled his Father's words—the words that had been said when Spock's heruvat broke its wing and died when he was five-point-three years old.  
  
"I am thinking of nothing in particular," Spock said, stroking Jim's back, mostly to calm his own illogical fears—'illogical' because feeling fear was illogical, not because those fears were invalid.   
  
"Liar," Jim said, rolling fully on top of Spock. Despite the muscle he had put on recently, Jim still felt too light and fragile in his arms, which did nothing to sooth Spock's fears.   
  
 _Breakable_.  
  
Jim chuckled. "Not that I object or anything, but you're gonna break my ribs if you squeeze any tighter."  
  
Spock loosened his grasp, realizing that he had indeed been holding Jim too tightly. "I apologize," he said tersely, wondering what Sarek would think if he had witnessed such a lapse of self-control.  
  
"Don't, silly," Jim said into his neck. "I kinda love that you stop being the perfect Vulcan when you're with me." He snickered. "Shit, if only Sarek knew that his incredibly Vulcan son loves to use me as a teddy bear when we're alone. I'm actually surprised Amanda hasn't told him yet, considering that they're—you know..."   
  
Spock felt his eyebrows creep up to his hairline. "Are you saying that you are of the opinion that my father has, or has had, a romantic liaison with Amanda?"  
  
"I'm not sure, but yeah. I saw them touching  _hands_  the other day," Jim said in such a tone that Spock knew he was wiggling his eyebrows playfully.  
  
Spock considered Jim’s words, and found that he was not upset by the idea. He simply could not quite believe it. "But she is... alien, Jim."  
  
"So?" Jim said, his body suddenly going stiff in Spock's arms.  
  
"I did not mean it like that," Spock said quickly.  
  
Jim scoffed. "Then what the fuck did you mean?"  
  
It never ceased to amaze him that Jim still remembered profanities he had picked up on the streets; he had been merely five. Jim's memory was almost as excellent as his own.  
  
"You know that I did not mean it like that."  
  
"Nope, I don't."  
  
Spock pressed his lips together. "Jim, cease being so difficult. You are well aware of your importance to me. The fact that you are an alien does not make me think of you less."  
  
Jim's body relaxed ever so slightly. "Then what did you mean?"  
  
"I merely find it unlikely that Father would find Nurse Amanda a suitable companion for him."  
  
"Why? She's beautiful."   
  
"Beautiful?" Spock repeated, attempting to classify the strange twisting sensation in his stomach.   
  
"Well, yeah... ‘Aesthetically pleasing,’ you know?"  
  
Spock frowned. "I do not know. I find it difficult to assess Nurse Amanda in such a manner."  
  
"Well, she's like a mom to me, too, but I'm not blind. Objectively, she's very good-looking."   
  
"Perhaps, but choosing a companion because of aesthetic reasons is hardly logical. Father would never do that."   
  
Jim snorted. "Yeah, right. We're talking about the same guy who's hiding two aliens in his house, which breaks the fucking law. How is that logical?"  
  
"We still do not know the reason why Father provided help for Amanda."  
  
"Yeah, about that. I don't get why we're still playing this stupid game—pretending that we don't know while they pretend that they believe that we don't know. Don't you get tired of this? I'm kinda sick of calling her T'Amanda." Jim snorted. "What kind of Vulcan name is that anyway?"  
  
It was not the first time they had discussed the subject, and since they never seemed to come to an agreement on the matter, Spock doubted it would be the last. "Jim, if they decided not to tell me that she was alien, they probably had a very good reason. Perhaps they considered it too dangerous, and I agree. The fewer individuals know and less it is discussed aloud, the better. I trust my father's judgment."  
  
"Yeah, right. Of course, Sarek is always right," Jim muttered with barely-concealed sarcasm.  
  
"Jim."  
  
"Oh, come on, Spock! I know, deep inside, you agree with me. If we didn't know, it would've been one thing. But we _know_. What's the point in not talking about it when we already know that she's human?"  
  
Spock took a deep breath, then exhaled, trying to stay patient. Jim was incredibly stubborn, but it was nothing new to him. "We have discussed it at length. It is too dangerous. We cannot let our guards down. We cannot address to her as 'Amanda,' not even in private, because my mental shields might fail during my sessions with T'Pau and I might reveal Amanda's identity to her. You are well aware that I apply all my shields to protecting my thoughts of you and anything concerning you; I do not need the additional strain to them. We should always be careful. And what do you hope to achieve by discussing the matter? They know that we know, but Amanda told us that she did not wish to discuss it. We should respect her wishes, if nothing else. It is safer for us all to treat her like she is, indeed, Vulcan."  
  
"So you think it's better not to wake a sleeping lion, then."  
  
Spock was bewildered. "What does a lion has to do with this topic?"  
  
Jim chuckled. "Never mind, Spock. Just an expression I remembered; my memory is weird like that. Figures I'd remember stuff like that and not remember a thing about my parents." Jim sighed. "All right; no calling her 'Amanda,' got it. But still, it's fucking insulting even to  _pretend_ that we don't know—that we're that stupid. I hugged her hundreds of times and her heart is in the same place as mine! And she  _smiles_! Seriously, we must be complete morons not to guess."  
  
"Indeed," Spock agreed, not wishing to remind Jim that, before Jim joined their family, Spock had not suspected anything. Jim had always laughed at his expense because of that. "However, the fact that she smiles is not that unusual in itself. There are Vulcans who refuse to accept Surak's teachings, and she could have been one of them."  
  
"But she  _isn't_."  
  
"No, she is not."   
  
They were silent for a while before Jim murmured, "What about you? So what, if looks aren't important, are you gonna marry for logical reasons? I overheard T'Pau dropping hints about your marriage the last time she was here; she probably wants to marry you off to that awful T'Pring. Why else would she drag the girl with her every time she comes to visit?"  
  
Spock frowned. "How often have I told you to keep away from T'Pau when she is visiting? One day she will notice you, Jim.” He sighed. “Regarding your question, yes, T'Pau wishes to find a political match for me. But I do not think you are correct about T'Pring. She is merely T'Pau's apprentice; of course she would accompany T'Pau on her trips."  
  
Spock could practically hear Jim think and felt his lips twitch. Jim did everything loud, even thinking. It was... endearing.  
  
"Don't you think you're too young?" Jim said finally.  
  
"I am already 19.4 years old. Most Vulcans are bonded since childhood."   
  
"By Earth standards, you're just eighteen!" Before Spock could say that they were not on Earth, he heard Jim take a deep breath. "And what about me?"   
  
Spock's eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean?"  
  
"When you marry, some girl will live here, right?"  
  
"Affirmative."  
  
"She'll find out about me and—"  
  
"No," Spock interrupted him. "I am certain Father will not let T'Pau choose an individual who will endanger you or Amanda. I believe he did not let T'Pau bond me to anyone when I was seven for that same reason."  
  
Jim remained silent.  
  
"Speak your mind, Jim," Spock prompted.  
  
"I don't want you to marry anyone."   
  
Spock blinked. "Pardon?"  
  
"I don't want to share you," Jim said angrily. "You're mine... my Spock," he added, though sounding less certainty. "Right?"  
  
Spock felt the familiar warmth spread through his body. "Of course," he said softly. "However, your concerns are hardly valid, since you are and always shall be the most important person to me, regardless of my marital status."  
  
"Yeah?" Jim murmured into his neck.  
  
Spock noticed that Jim's insecurities concerning his place in Spock's life lately had increased quite drastically. It was not like his Jim to be uncertain about anything.  
  
"Indeed," he said, moving a hand up Jim's back to the nape of his neck. He stroked it in a manner that was hopefully soothing. Jim made a strange noise— a moan?  
  
"Jim?" Spock said, his eyebrows furrowing. "What is the matter? Are you in pain?"  
  
"No," Jim said, his voice sounding odd. "Just—don't touch me like that, all right? It's too weird."  
  
Spock tensed. His heartbeat quickened by 32.6%. "’Weird’? Are you ill?"  
  
Jim chuckled a little awkwardly. "No—well, I don't think so. It's just..."  
  
"Yes?" Spock prompted.  
  
Jim muttered something into his neck.  
  
Spock frowned. "I did not catch that."  
  
"I get hard, OK?"   
  
Spock blinked in the darkness. "'Hard'? Clarify."  
  
"Fuck, it's so— Look, let's just forget about it—"  
  
"Jim, you will tell me what is wrong with you at once. In fact, I am severely disappointed that apparently you had a health problem for some time and chose not to tell me sooner."   
  
"You won't understand, Spock. You're different—  _I'm_  different."  
  
Spock pursed his lips briefly. "Answer the question, Jim. What do you mean by 'hard'?"   
  
Jim groaned in frustration. "My cock gets hard, okay?"  
  
"’Cock’?" Spock repeated the word, uncertain what the male domestic bird had to do with Jim's illness.   
  
"My  _penis_ , Spock. It gets swollen and hard. Happy now?"  
  
Spock's eyebrows furrowed. "It does not sound very healthy. Perhaps we should tell—"  
  
"No way! I'm not telling Sarek and Amanda!"   
  
"Jim, you are being illogical. It might be dangerous—"  
  
"It's not dangerous— well, I'm pretty sure it isn't."  
  
"How can you be so positive of that?"  
  
Jim groaned in frustration. "I sort of remember... When I lived on the streets in San Francisco, I remember other, older boys talking about getting a hard-on from looking at pretty women. I think it's pretty normal for human males."  
  
Spock frowned, not at all convinced. "And how long has it been going on?"   
  
"It's kinda confusing... I used to wake up like that for years, but it became a regular thing only about two years ago—"   
  
"Jim."  
  
"I know, I know! Quit giving me that look. Yes, I don't need to see you to tell that you're giving me The Look—"  
  
"Why have you not told me sooner?" Spock said, aware that his voice was hardly calm or even but unable to do anything about it. "You should have informed me about it when it first occurred."  
  
Jim propped himself on his elbows above him, but in the darkness Spock could not see his expression. "Look, would you quit acting like I was hiding from you that I was dying or something? I'm allowed to keep my own secrets! I'm not a goddamn kid anymore and you aren't my older brother, Spock! I'm seventeen."  
  
Spock took a breath through his teeth. "Yes. I am not your older brother and you are not a child, but—"  
  
"But what?! Why is this such a big deal?"   
  
"Lower your voice. You are an alien, Jim—"  
  
"Wow, you just realized this?"  
  
"—and it is the source of constant concern to me, because I feel — helpless." To his dismay, his voice had cracked. "I do not know how to help you if you become ill. I do not even know if I can  _recognize_ that you are ill. Therefore, I would _appreciate_ if you will not keep anything like that from me in the future."   
  
"… Oh."  
  
Spock said nothing, trying to regain his control. Anger was illogical; fear, even more so. He was Vulcan.  
  
"I'm sorry," Jim murmured after a while, and, leaning down, pressed his warm lips to Spock's cheek. "I won't do it again, promise. Don't be mad at me, okay?"  
  
Spock took a deep breath. "I am not 'mad.'"   
  
They fell silent for a long while.   
  
"Are you still 'hard'?" Spock inquired finally.  
  
Jim chuckled, somewhat awkwardly. "Yeah. Don't you feel? It’s pressed against your thigh."  
  
"I do not understand what I am supposed to feel. I am unable to notice anything out of the ordinary."  
  
Jim chuckled again. "Yeah, because I'm always at least half-hard when we sleep together. You have no idea how much it sucks."  
  
Spock frowned, rather at a loss. "I must admit I indeed do not have an idea. I do not completely understand the concept of being 'hard.' Your penis is your reproductive organ, is it not?"  
  
"Well, yeah... I think."   
  
"Does it mean that you wish to father a child?"  
  
Jim laughed a little. "Shit, stop asking these questions! How would I know?” He groaned. “Look, let's just forget about it, all right? I'm sure it's nothing life-threatening. Yeah, it's not exactly comfortable and can be pretty painful, but—"  
  
"You are experiencing pain?" Spock interrupted, alarmed.  
  
"Well, not  _pain_ exactly, but some discomfort."  
  
"Let me see."  
  
"What?!"  
  
"Let me examine your penis."  
  
"No!"  
  
"Why not? If it is causing you discomfort, it should be examined."  
  
"Just…  _no_ , Spock. Shit, it's—"  
  
"Jim, if you do not let me, I will speak to Amanda about it. She must have some information—"  
  
"Don't you fucking dare!"   
  
"You know that I will."  
  
"You won't."  
  
"I will."  
  
"You won't!"  
  
"I  _will_."  
  
Jim heaved a sigh. "Dammit, you can be such an asshole when you want to. Fine, do your… examining thing."  
  
"Computer, lights to forty percent," Spock ordered.  
  
Jim rolled off him and sat up on the bed, cross-legged. Spock sat opposite him and stared at Jim's covered crotch. There was indeed a noticeable bulge underneath Jim's blue shorts.  
  
"God, I can't believe this is really happening."   
  
Spock looked up to meet his eyes and was surprised to find Jim blushing to the roots of his short blond hair.  
  
"Being embarrassed is illogical. Take your shorts off."   
  
Jim scowled, but pushed his shorts down, revealing his engorged penis. "Here. Happy now?"  
  
Spock stared. The penis twitched before his eyes. "Fascinating."   
  
Jim hit him with a pillow.   
  
"I hate you," he groaned out dramatically, falling back on the bed.  
  
Spock eyed Jim's penis, which was still uncovered. Hesitantly, he reached out and touched it. Jim's hips bucked up. "Goddammit, Spock!"   
  
Spock jerked his hand away. "Did it hurt?"  
  
Jim made a strange sound—something between a groan and a laugh. "Not… not exactly."  
  
Furrowing his eyebrows, Spock stared at Jim's penis again. "Do you mind if I perform a manual examination?"  
  
"M-manual examination?" Jim choked out, wide-eyed. "Are you shitting me?"  
  
"Negative," Spock said, and, receiving no objection, tentatively took the penis in his hand; Jim gasped. Spock gave it an experimental stroke, lightly and hesitantly, and Jim moaned.  
  
Interesting. Jim did not appear to be in pain. And yet he was moaning.  
  
Bemused, Spock watched Jim's flushed face, half-tempted to drop his mental shields and let Jim's emotions slip into him. However, it would be highly unethical to do so, no matter how much he wished to know what Jim was feeling. Jim, being psi-null, was completely defenseless. Spock could not do that.  
  
"How does it feel?" he asked instead, examining the penis and noted that his own breathing was slightly irregular for no apparent reason.  
  
Jim was breathing even harder, his face flushed and eyes a little glazed over. Spock felt a strange sensation in his stomach.   
  
Jim gave him a dazed smile. "Sort of awesome."  
  
Spock's eyes widened. "Are you  _enjoying_ this?"  
  
Jim covered his face with his hands. "Oh, shut up."  
  
"Fascinating," Spock said again, eyeing the organ in his hand. He stroked its tip with his thumb and Jim made a strange sound.  
  
"Spock," he said through his teeth. "Let go."  
  
"Why?" Spock said, curiously stroking the thick vein on the underside.   
  
"Cause you aren't fucking helping, and I'm not a lab rat."  
  
"How do you usually deal with such a problem?" Spock said, touching the head again.  
  
"Fuck... I dunno. Sometimes it goes away on its own. Sometimes I..."  
  
"Yes?" Spock prompted.  
  
"Sometimes I touch myself. There. It feels good, but I try not to do it often. What if it's something I'm not supposed to do? What if it stops working from overuse or something?"  
  
Spock considered it. "I think we should speak to Nurse Amanda. She must have relevant information."  
  
Jim took his hands away from his face to meet Spock's eyes. "If you do that, I'll never forgive you. Really."   
  
Spock gave him a hard look. "We need her help. We do not know how dangerous it might be."  
  
"It's not dangerous," Jim said stubbornly. "I've been touching myself there for years and I'm not dead, right? It feels good, really.” He ducked his head. “Not as good as when you touch me, but good."  
  
Spock raised an eyebrow before looking back at the penis in his hand. He tightened his grip slightly. "Are you saying that my touch is more enjoyable than yours? That is illogical, since—"   
  
"Spock. Get—your—hand—off—my cock. I'm not fucking kidding."  
  
Spock raised an eyebrow at him. Contrary to his words, Jim did not appear to be particularly eager to move away from Spock's touch. Spock looked down at Jim's warm, swollen penis in his hand. There was something endlessly fascinating about it.  
  
He tightened his grip again and moved the hand up and down. Jim let out a low moan. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"   
  
"I wish to make sure that such a procedure is not harmful for you by performing and monitoring it myself," Spock replied, continuing to stroke Jim's penis. "Is this rhythm sufficient?"  
  
"Yeah." Jim closed his eyes. "Fuck, it feels so much better than when I do this. A bit faster now—yeah—oh— _ohh_. But we probably shouldn't be—your hands are amazing—more—c'mon— _fuuuck_ -"   
  
Spock watched as Jim's semen covered his hand. "Interesting."  
  
Jim snorted, then started laughing. "God, only you, Spock."   
  
Spock got out of the bed and headed to the bathroom to wash his hands. He returned with a wet cloth and a tricorder. "Clean yourself," he said, tossing the cloth to Jim. He turned on the tricorder and started taking readings. "It appears your readings are within the norm for you," Spock admitted after three-point-two minutes of careful monitoring. In fact, some of them were better than usual, but Spock was not about to admit it aloud.  
  
"I told you, worry-wart. Now, put that thing away and get into the bed. I wanna sleep."  
  
Spock put the tricorder on the nightstand and climbed back under the sheets.  
  
"Computer, lights off," Jim said before shifting closer to Spock until their sides were pressed together.   
  
They stared at the dark ceiling.   
  
"It weirded you out, didn't it?"  
  
Spock considered the question. "Negative," he replied truthfully.   
  
"Quit lying. I can only imagine how weird it must've been for you. You Vulcans don't have that kind of a problem."  
  
"Indeed, we do not. Vulcans do not achieve sexual maturity until..." Spock trailed off, uncomfortable.  
  
Jim chuckled. "Pon farr. You can say it, you know. I don't get why it's such a big deal for you all."  
  
Spock felt his cheeks heat up and was glad Jim could not see him. "My pon farr is at least ten years away, so I will not achieve sexual maturity anytime soon."  
  
Jim let out a laugh. "Yeah, and until then, you're basically a kid. I feel kinda sorry for you, you know. You're seriously missing out. Sure, it's not fun to have a constant hard-on, but when I finally… you know… damn, that's awesome!"  
  
Spock closed his eyes. "It is hardly logical to discuss the merits of our physiologies, since we cannot change them."  
  
"Yeah, but still...It's kinda weird that you're older than me, but I'm more physically mature. Your cock still doesn't work like mine."  
  
Spock tightened his jaw. He knew it was illogical, but the topic made him feel somewhat... inadequate.   
  
He said nothing, but Jim, being Jim, never got the hint. "C'mon, you really don't feel anything at all when you look, say, at T'Pring's boobs?"  
  
"'T'Pring's boobs'?" Spock repeated flatly.   
  
"Yeah, she's got great boobs—full and high, and... Damn, just thinking of them turns me on a bit and I just came! You can't possibly be so unaffected."  
  
"I fail to see why T'Pring's milk-secreting glands are supposed to affect me in any way."  
  
Jim snorted a laugh. "Well, when you put it this way... But seriously, nothing at all gets you hot? Nothing?"  
  
"'Hot'?"  
  
"Yeah. Like, you see something and badly wanna touch it; that kind of thing."  
  
Spock considered the question. "I am of the opinion that you are mistaken: the urge to touch something is not necessarily sexual."  
  
"Well, yeah, but I'm talking about the  _urge_ , you know?"  
  
"No," Spock said slowly.  
  
Jim sighed exasperatedly. "Look, it's hard to explain, but... It's like you see some part of someone's body and really, really want to touch it, you know?"  
  
Spock frowned. "I am familiar with this, but, since I am sexually immature, your theory is obviously incorrect."  
  
Jim tensed next to him, then propped himself on an elbow. "Wait, you want to touch someone's body part? Really? Whose?"  
  
Spock stared at the dark ceiling.   
  
"Yours," he said three-point-eight seconds later. He had to remind himself that Vulcans did not feel embarrassed even when admitting their oddest desires.   
  
Jim made a sharp intake of breath. "Mine? Really?"   
  
"Affirmative."  
  
Jim chuckled. "Let me guess: it's my hair, right? Spock, I didn't mean those kind of touches—"  
  
"Not your hair. Also, you are well aware that I preferred your old haircut to your current one."  
  
"Yeah, I know how much you liked my floppy hair, but I'm not a kid anymore. And at least I don't have a bowl-cut, like some people in this room. And quit changing the subject."  
  
"You are the one who changed the subject, Jim," Spock said, a corner of his lips twitching up.   
  
Jim smacked him on his chest. "So what is that?"  
  
For a moment, Spock contemplated not telling the truth, and immediately was ashamed. Vulcans were supposed to be unable to lie; at times like that the gnawing feeling that he was not a proper Vulcan only worsened.  
  
"You will probably find it odd," Spock said. He knew  _he_ did. "You have two... dimples in your lower back. I find them…fascinating."  
  
A moment of silence.   
  
"You—You want to touch the dimples above my ass?" Jim said slowly, incredulity in his voice. "Why would you want that?"  
  
Spock pressed his lips together. "I do not wish to discuss the subject further." The truth was, he could not explain his fascination. He only knew that every time Jim's shirt rode up to reveal those dimples above Jim's shorts, Spock would find himself staring, unable to tear his gaze away. It was... strange.  
  
"You're so weird," Jim informed him, lying back with a chuckle. "I hate those stupid dimples. I wish they’d disappeared with the rest of my baby-fat. Men aren't supposed to have dimples above their asses."  
  
Spock closed his eyes, relieved that Jim appeared to have lost interest in the topic.  
  
"Good night, Jim."  
  
Jim leaned in and pressed his lips to Spock's cheek. "Night," he murmured, his warm breath brushing Spock's skin before he snuggled to Spock again.  
  
Spock's cheek was still tingling by the time Jim drifted to sleep.   
  
He listened to Jim's even breathing for a long time, lying wide awake. He was not tired. The truth was, he did not require as much sleep as he let Jim think. Four hours of sleep was sufficient for a Vulcan, but when Jim shared his bed, Spock spent at least eight in there.  
  
Such an unproductive waste of time was highly illogical, Spock knew it. He knew it and soon would cease indulging himself. But not tonight.   
  
Spock buried his nose in Jim's hair, taking a careful breath in.  
  
Perhaps tomorrow.

~*~

  
  
 _It is highly inappropriate_ , Spock told himself the next day, but he continued to watch Jim.   
  
During the 7.8 hours of his observation, he observed that Jim became "hard" on five occasions and remained hard for the duration of two to ten minutes. To Spock's bewilderment and confusion, 89.2% of the time, he himself appeared to be the cause of Jim's condition.  
  
It puzzled him. He was a male. Getting an erection because of close proximity to another male did not seem particularly logical to Spock. However, perhaps he was mistaken and he had nothing to do with Jim's condition; perhaps Jim was simply thinking of something else.  
  
To Spock's further confusion, he found that he could not cease observing Jim's other body parts. Observing Jim's crotch was inappropriate, but could be explained by his scientific curiosity; observing Jim's backside could not.  
  
Spock did not have any explanation for why he had been staring at Jim's backside for the last 16.4 minutes. It was fortunate that Jim could not see him, since Jim was lying on his stomach on the couch, reading a book, with his feet on Spock's lap. Jim's long toned legs were crossed in ankles, drawing Spock's attention even more to his full backside under those baggy white shorts.  
  
Jim shifted and his shorts slid down a little. Spock stared at the familiar dimples and the creamy skin of Jim's upper buttocks. His mouth went dry and he felt odd warmth in his lower stomach he could not quite categorize. The symptoms were not new; they had been occurring at random for the last three months, but today, they appeared to be more intense than Spock was used to. Perhaps it was a cause for concern and he should go to a healer.  
  
Jim nudged him with his bare foot. "What are you doing? You're awfully quiet."  
  
Spock shifted his gaze to Jim's head and found him still reading. Forcing himself to keep his eyes on Jim's dark blond hair, Spock replied truthfully, "I am thinking."  
  
"Hmm; sounds boring." Jim nudged Spock's thigh with his foot again. "Spock, my feet are hurting. Make them feel better."  
  
"You can blame only yourself. You should not have climbed the hills."  
  
"Spock, come on."  
  
Suppressing the urge to sigh, Spock took the bare foot in his hands and started massaging it. Amanda had told him on more than one occasion that he "spoiled Jim rotten," and even though Spock was inclined to agree with her, he could not help himself. Jim was the most precious being to him in the world, and Spock could rarely deny him anything.   
  
"Mmm," Jim moaned barely audibly and Spock's hands went still.  
  
"Hey, why did you stop?"  
  
Spock resumed the massage. He caressed and stroked Jim's every toe, attempting to ignore the noises Jim was making. As Spock put Jim's foot back on his lap and took the other, his accidentally glanced at Jim's hips, and stared. Jim was shifting his hips barely noticeably, grinding against the couch. Spock felt his blood rush to his cheeks. "Jim, we are in the living room. Cease your actions immediately."  
  
Jim froze, then laughed. "Shit, you weren't supposed to notice. You never noticed before!"  
  
Spock's felt his mouth fall open and quickly closed it. "You have done this before?"  
  
"Sure, silly," Jim said with a chuckle. "We touch each other a lot, and I sort of want to… hump things. I can't help it."  
  
Spock let go of Jim's feet. "I have told you that I do not appreciate being called 'silly' on nine hundred and twenty-three occasions. I am not feeble-minded."  
  
"It means I love you, you ass."  
  
"A most curious definition of the word," Spock said dryly, attempting to slow down his heartbeat. It was the one hundred and seventeenth time Jim had told him that he loved him and it still was as... fascinating for him to hear as it had been the very first time Jim said that. Illogical. A simple word should not elicit such a strong reaction in him. And Vulcans were not supposed to care about such things. Spock was mildly surprised that the word for "love" even existed in modern Vulcan; as far as he knew, the word was not used in speech anymore and could be encountered only in ancient pre-Surak legends and tales.  
  
Spock was pulled away from his thoughts when Jim said, "Spock?"   
  
"Yes? Is something the matter?"  
  
"Nope," Jim said, sitting up next to him and eyeing him curiously. He put the book aside. "You just went very quiet. Actually, you've been awfully quiet all day. Something's bugging you."  
  
Spock had to apply considerable effort in order not to allow his blood rush to his face. "I..." he said, attempting to come up with something to say.  _Vulcans do not lie._  The statement always bewildered Spock, because he was perfectly capable of lying. "I was thinking about my further education."  
  
His shoulders stiffening, Jim looked away. "Yeah?" he said casually. "Did you decide on anything? Vulcan Science Academy or T'Paal Academy?"   
  
Spock did not know how to respond; he had no answer. Lately, the matter of his future had been a frequent topic of discussion in their house. It was the time for him to enter a university. His Father had encouraged him to enroll in the Vulcan Science Academy, not wishing for Spock to attend the less prestigious university, T’Paal Academy, that was located in their town. Amanda had simply smiled and told him to do what "feels right." Jim had been unusually silent when the topic was discussed, and Spock did not know what to think. It was very unlike Jim to be silent about anything. Even when they were children, Jim had never hesitated to tell his opinion.  
  
"Perhaps T'Paal Academy," Spock said, watching Jim examine his nails.  
  
"Really?" Jim said in the same casual tone.   
  
"Yes."  
  
"But you hate politics, Spock."  
  
"It is not true. While it is indeed not my most preferred activity, I am not opposed to pursue politics, like T'Pau."  
  
Jim bit his lip. "So it's not because..."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Nothing."  
  
"Jim, speak your mind."  
  
Jim looked up at him, and Spock was taken aback once again by how quickly Jim's face was losing its childishness, his features maturing with every day.  
  
"You want to do science, I know that, Spock. I know you." Before Spock could deny it, Jim added, "No, don't lie to me. You wanna go to the VSA."   
  
Spock stared at him. "I do not wish to attend the Vulcan Science Academy," he said and had not lied. He was not lying because entering the VSA meant living in Shi’Kahr, and living in Shi’Kahr meant being parted from Jim, which was unacceptable. His father refused to take Jim to Shi’Kahr even for short trips, and Spock calculated that there was less than 0.003% probability that Sarek would let Jim live there long-term.   
  
"Quit lying. It's because of me, right?"  
  
Spock met the blue eyes calmly. "And if it is?"  
  
Jim scowled. "If you think I want you to give up your dreams because of me, think again. Apply for the VSA."   
  
"No. This is my decision to make, and I will apply for T'Paal Academy."  
  
Sighing heavily, Jim looked down for a few moments before meeting Spock's eyes again. "What if I ask you to?"  
  
Spock's heart skipped a beat. "You wish for me to leave?" he said, controlling his voice carefully.  
  
Jim leaned his forehead against Spock's shoulder. "Of course not, silly. I just don't want to hold you back anymore—"  
  
"You do not hold me back," Spock contradicted.  
  
Jim snorted, the sound muffled by Spock's shirt. "I do, Spock. When you were in secondary school, you taught me everything you were taught, and it was fun for me, but it wasn't exactly educational for you. If you go to T'Paal Academy, it'd be the same thing all over again." Jim smiled crookedly. "You're a genius, Spock. You deserve better, okay? I  _hate_ saying that, but you can be so much more without me holding you back—"  
  
Spock took Jim by his chin and made him look up. "Listen to me," he said quietly, meeting Jim's eyes. "I do not wish to be 'so much more' if it means that I cannot see you. I cannot spend two hundred and thirty days a year without seeing you. It is unacceptable." To Spock's dismay, his voice wavered slightly.   
  
Jim's expression became sharper. "And now  _you_ listen to me. I'll never forgive myself if you go into politics because of me." He took a deep breath and looked Spock into the eye. "Apply for the VSA. Please."  
  
Spock stared at him, his resolve crumbling. Logically, he knew Jim was correct, but his entire essence protested against the very thought of being away from Jim. And yet Jim was asking him. Spock did not wish for Jim to end up resenting himself and feeling guilty because of Spock's choice.   
  
"Very well."   
  
"Great," Jim said cheerfully, pressing his lips to Spock's cheek. Spock wrapped his arm around him and tugged him closer until Jim was half-straddling his lap.  
  
Jim smiled against his cheek. "Hey, you're engaged in cuddling in the middle of a public room, Mister Spock," he said, his voice full of laughter. "What would the Vulcan Mafia say?"

  
~*~  
 

  
In the evening, Sarek unexpectedly returned from Shi’Kahr. It took Spock only a glimpse of his father's tense face to sense that something was amiss.  
  
"What's wrong?" Amanda asked as Sarek joined them at the table, her brown eyes full of concern, although her face stayed admirably inscrutable.   
  
Spock raised a questioning eyebrow at his father. Even Jim ceased eating his beloved blue fruit in favor of staring at Sarek with a question in his eyes.  
  
Sarek looked at Amanda, then at Jim and Spock. "The information I am about to reveal is classified and must not leave this room."  
  
Jim's lips twisted. "Who do you think I'm gonna tell?" he muttered, but his crooked smile faded when Sarek fixed him with a hard stare. He raised his hands up. "Okay, fine, I'm shutting up. What's up, Sarek?"  
  
On the inside, Spock grimaced. He could not fathom what Jim hoped to achieve by irritating Sarek with his adamant use of colloquial Vulcan—the language of the lower classes. It never failed to ‘get a rise’ from Sarek, as Jim would say, and this time was no exception. The corners of Sarek's mouth tightened minutely.  
  
"You would already know 'what's up' if you did not interrupt me, James," Sarek said in an icy tone.  
  
"Sarek," Amanda chided. Sarek glanced at her, and his expression softened slightly.   
  
Spock looked between them with curiosity. Was it possible that Jim was correct and there was, indeed, something of romantic nature between his father and Amanda? He could not quite wrap his mind around the concept.  
  
"There was an emergency Council meeting today," Sarek said after a moment. "The meeting's subject was the transmission received from Earth this morning."  
  
Spock heard a collective intake of breath.  
  
"What?" Jim said, his eyes going huge.  
  
"According to the transmission, Earth wishes to initiate a First Contact with Vulcan," Sarek continued, his face inscrutable. "It appears that the Klingons are on a warpath again, and Earth is in a state of tension bordering on war with Klingon Empire. Its people are seeking allies. Humans have suggested a meeting to discuss a possible alliance."  
  
When Sarek said nothing else, Spock spoke, "And what was the Council's decision?"  
  
Sarek met his eyes. "The Council was unable to make one. As you are well aware, for a decision to be accepted, it needs at least fifty percent of the Elders' votes in its favor, and the qualification was not met. Thirty-three percent of ministers withheld their votes. Of those who did vote, twenty-one percent were in favor of accepting Humans' suggestion, forty-seven were for declining, and thirty-two were for accepting Humans' offer with the intention of kidnapping them and—"   
  
"What?!" Jim shouted, his face turning red with rage, while Amanda paled.  
  
Spock put a hand on Jim's thigh, restraining him from jerking to his feet. Jim grabbed his hand and squeezed. Spock fidgeted, painfully aware how inappropriate it was. It seemed Jim would never fully understand how intimate handholding was for Vulcans. For Jim, it was merely a gesture of seeking comfort, especially when he felt awkward, uncertain or hurt. It was fortunate that Sarek could not see what was going on under the table.  
  
Sarek's eyes fixed on Jim. "James, you should understand that many Vulcans are reasonably cautious—"  
  
" _Cautious_?" Jim repeated, his eyes flashing with anger. "It's not caution—it's fucking  _paranoia_! Why the hell you—"  
  
"You will be silent and cease using vulgar words," Sarek snapped, leveling him with a cold glare. Only Jim could make Sarek lose his temper so easily. "You know nothing, James. Our caution is only logical, since the Klingons used the same trick 402 years ago. They told us that they sought alliance, but they deceived us."   
  
Jim leaned forward, breathing hard. He was squeezing Spock's hand so tightly that it was bordering on painful. "I know Vulcan history better than you, Sarek, and you know why? Because I have nothing else to do but read and  _read_ when Spock's not home! And do you know why? Because of those stupid paranoid jerks in the Council! Because of them, I can't even leave the estate's borders—I'm a prisoner in a fancy cage—I have no fucking friends, no acquaintances, no life, no—" Jim cut himself off, catching the expression on Spock's face.   
  
Spock looked down. "I did not know you were so miserable in my company," he said, carefully controlling his voice. He attempted to withdraw his hand, but Jim did not let him, clutching it hard.  
  
"Spock," Jim said urgently, leaning closer to him. "Spock, you know I didn't mean it like that," he whispered.  
  
Spock finally freed his hand from Jim's grasp and looked away. He clenched his jaw, acutely aware that his father and Amanda were watching their interaction.   
  
To learn that he was not enough for Jim, while to him Jim was everything, was... He felt—Spock did not know what he felt, but he did not like the feeling.  _Vulcans do not feel._  
  
Vulcans did  _not_ feel.  
  
"Do you intend to return to Shi’Kahr, Father?" Spock said calmly, avoiding Jim's gaze.   
  
"As a matter of fact, yes," Sarek said, his sharp dark eyes watching him and Jim. "I am here only because I am to meet T'Pau. She should arrive tonight."  
  
Spock raised his eyebrows. "For what purpose? Was she not present at the Council meeting?"  
  
"She was not. She was called away four days ago to Kavigaar Mountains," Sarek replied. "A matter of medical urgency."  
  
Spock nodded, not surprised at all. Although T'Pau was the Head of High Council, she was also the best mind-healer of Vulcan and occasionally took difficult medical cases, despite her busy schedule. It was one of the reasons Spock admired her so much.   
  
"I'm surprised the Council was even called in her absence," Amanda said, taking a sip from her herbal tea.  
  
"She could not be reached at the time," Sarek said. "Her absence was the reason why so many Ministers withheld their votes. They do not wish to fall into T'Pau's disfavor if their votes differ from hers."  
  
Jim snorted and muttered something unfavorable.   
  
Ignoring him, Spock looked down at his plate and found that he did not have any appetite. "Am I correct in understanding that there is to be another Council meeting after you and T'Pau reach Shi’Kahr?"  
  
"You are correct, my son. I expect T'Pau and I leave tomorrow."  
  
Jim sat straighter. "May I ask why you're meeting T'Pau here?" he said, voice full of suspicion. "Actually, may I ask – how did  _you_ vote?"  
  
"Jim," Amanda with steel in her voice. "Mind your tone when you're speaking to—"  
  
"To whom?" Jim barked out a laugh. " _Whom_? My father? My guardian? My master? Who exactly is Sarek to me, huh?" Jim glared at Sarek. "The truth is, I have no place in this world—I'm fucking no one—and Earth's suggestion of alliance is the chance for me to finally be someone, and you're telling me that caution is fucking logical?"  
  
"Jim," Amanda began softly.  
  
"You know it's true!" Jim shouted. "I'm sick of this stupid game. You're human, too, damn it. Surely you understand me!"   
  
Amanda and Sarek visibly stiffened.  
  
"Jim," Spock said with resignation. "Lower your voice."   
  
The room fell completely silent for a minute, before Sarek finally spoke, "If you must know, I voted in favor of accepting Earth's proposal. I asked T'Pau to meet me here with the intention of persuading her to do the same."  
  
A beat passed.  
  
"Oh," Jim said awkwardly. "Sorry I yelled at you," he muttered with a blush on his face but met Sarek's gaze firmly. Jim might be stubborn and impulsive, but he was rarely afraid to admit and apologize when he was wrong.   
  
Sarek merely inclined his head and started eating. Everyone followed his cue.  
  
"Do you really think you can influence T'Pau?" Amanda said after a minute of silence. "Doesn't she... feel strongly about aliens?"   
  
Jim snorted. "Just say it—she's the biggest xenophobe on Vulcan."  
  
Spock frowned at him. "That is not true."  
  
Jim raised his eyebrows, his expression skeptical. "You know I'm right, Spock. I know she's like a grandma to you, but you can't be that blind."  
  
"Jim is not completely incorrect," Sarek said. He sounded weary. "That is why I wish to speak to T'Pau before the second meeting of the Council. However, I am not certain she will listen to me."  
  
Amanda sighed, frowning deeply. "I'm sure she won't even bother listening. If she feels strongly about something, she'll never change her mind."  
  
Spock pressed his lips together, feeling defensive, as he always did when someone spoke ill of T'Pau. T'Pau always had been—unusually for her—kind to him, and had even taken part in his education. She was the only mother figure Spock had, besides Amanda, and as much as Spock was fond of Amanda, she was not related to him by blood, like T'Pau.   
  
"I am positive she will at least listen," he said. "Perhaps T'Pau is not known for her tolerance of aliens, but she is not blindly xenophobic. She has her reasons to dislike outworlders."   
  
"Indeed, she does," Sarek said quietly, his expression darkening.   
  
Spock looked down.  
  
Before the Klingon invasion, the House of Surak had been the largest house of Vulcan and had consisted of thirty-eight clans. Since it was the oldest and most respected house—the closest equivalent Vulcan had to royalty—the Klingons had decided to publicly execute all members of the House to demonstrate their strength to Vulcan people. They had almost succeeded.  
  
Out of two hundred and seventeen members of the House of Surak, only two had escaped the massacre: a two-year-old T'Vela, a direct descendant from Surak, and a young Vulcan called Saaren, her distant cousin, who took the toddler and ran when the Klingons attempted to kill her.   
  
One hundred and forty-one years later, Saaren and T'Vela had led Vulcan people to their freedom. Their names would be forever etched in Vulcan history as leaders of the Great Resurrection.   
  
T'Vela had been T'Pau's grandmother. Saaren had been Sarek's grand-grandfather. Only two lines of the House of Surak survived the massacre, and with T'Pau being childless, only one line would remain after her death: Spock's. He was the only heir, unless Sarek chose to father more children.  
  
T'Pau had her reasons, indeed.   
  
"But it's not the same," Jim said, stabbing the revuna on his plate with his fork. "Back then, Vulcans were scientists and pacifists. They weren't prepared for the Klingons' attack—that's why the Klingons succeeded at all. Modern Vulcan is much more weapon-oriented than before, and the technology level is, like, thousand times better than it was four centuries ago! If the Klingons chose to attack Vulcan now, they wouldn't stand a chance—much less Humans, whose technological level is lower than that of Klingons  _and_ Vulcans. I don't get why Vulcan can't help Earth—it would be mutually beneficial. I doubt Klingons would dare to attack Earth or Vulcan if we formed an alliance. T'Pau is an arrogant hater if she can't see it! I don't—"  
  
"Excuse me," Spock said, getting up. "I am adequately nourished."  
  
Avoiding the others' gazes, he left the room.

 

                                                                                                                   ~*~  
   
  
"Spock!"  
  
Spock quickened his stride through the garden. He did not particularly like Jim at the moment and did not wish to speak to him.   
  
"Dammit, Spock, stop running from me!"  
  
Spock came to an abrupt halt. "I am not running from you."   
  
A moment later, strong arms wrapped around him from behind and a face pressed against Spock's neck.  
  
"Sorry," Jim said softly. "I'm sorry, okay? I know how much T'Pau means to you—I just got carried away, I guess. You know how I am."  
  
Spock closed his eyes, feeling his anger already starting to dissipate. He never could be angry with Jim for long.   
  
"You are miserable here," he said, addressing another matter that was bothering him. _I am not enough for you._  
  
"No, I'm not," Jim said, his arms squeezing tighter.   
  
"Cease lying, Jim. You said it yourself."  
  
Jim sighed, resting his cheek on Spock's shoulder from behind. Spock wondered if they were visible from the house—if Sarek could see them from a window.  
  
Spock knew he could easily pull away from Jim; he was much stronger. He didn't.  
  
"It's just… You're leaving for the VSA soon, and I know I'm the one who convinced you to do it, but I won't see you for months, and then T'Pau will marry you off, and then you'll forget—Fuck, I'm babbling, I know, but—" Jim swore elaborately in Vulcan and let go of him. "Dammit."  
  
Spock turned around, frowning.   
  
Jim had his arms crossed over his chest, his face red.  
  
Spock stepped closer. "Jim, what are you talking about?"  
  
Jim met his eyes. "I'm fucking scared, okay?" He spoke almost defiantly, as though daring Spock to ridicule him.   
  
Spock stared at him for a few moments. "You are scared I might leave you," he said slowly. "That I might forget you. I will not." The very idea was ludicrous.  
  
Jim chuckled hollowly. "Yes, you will. It's just a matter of time, Spock. In a few weeks, you're leaving for Shi’Kahr to enroll in the VSA, and you'll study there for the next four years, at the very least—if you don't get involved in some cool research project, which you will, because you're brilliant and they’d be fools not to snatch you right away. And you're gonna come home during breaks, but we're only gonna see each other a few weeks every year, and less and less with every passing year until eventually you'll stop coming back at all, because you'll have your new shiny life, out there in the big city. And we both know that Sarek would rather die than let me leave the goddamn 'safety' of the country house. So yeah—"  
  
"Are you quite finished?" Spock interrupted, raising an eyebrow.  
  
Jim blinked, then blinked again. "Yeah," he said, looking confused, unsure –  _lonely_.  
  
Spock had not realized the extent of Jim's fear of being abandoned. Once, many years ago, Jim had told him that his parents had either left him or hadn’t cared. Apparently, when Jim found himself on the streets of San Francisco with no memories, he went straight to a police station so that they could search for his family. Jim spent there days, waiting for someone to come for him, but no one had—there were no inquiries about a missing boy matching his description. He was not missed by anyone. Finally, Jim was given over to a temporary foster family, but he escaped from them a few days later after the husband turned out to be abusive—the fact that enraged Spock every time he thought about it.  
  
"I have no intention of abandoning you," Spock said, aware how inadequate it sounded. He was not good at talking about these things, but neither was Jim.  _You are a brother to me_ , he wished to say, but the word felt awkward and heavy on his tongue. It did not quite fit.   
  
Jim shrugged with one shoulder, his lips twisting. "Yeah, whatever. Let's go back into the house. T'Pau may arrive any minute now, so I've gotta hide. As always."  
  
"Jim," he said, and Jim turned back to him, his eyes guarded.   
  
"Even if I am to live two hundred years," Spock said quietly. "I will never forget you or leave you. You will be the one who will leave me, because you will most likely die before me." The mere thought made his thought constrict painfully and he had to remind himself that Jim was only seventeen, and full of life.   
  
Jim stared at him, searching his face intently for something. It appeared he had found it, because he grinned widely and threw an arm around Spock's shoulders. "Quit sulking. We're totally gonna die on the same day, old and grey but still devilishly handsome."  
  
Spock's lips twitched. "Indeed?"  
  
Jim smiled at him, his eyes glimmering. "Sure," he said with a wink. "And I even know how and when it'll happen. We'll die in one hundred years when I'm 117."   
  
"Is that so? And how will we die?" Spock said dryly.  
  
They started slowly walking towards the house, Jim's arm still around his shoulders.  
  
"Oh, it'll be a pretty boring death. We'll die in our sleep, snuggling to each other under the Vulcan sky beside our pond in the other garden. Obviously, we'll go to a really cool afterlife, where we're young and awesome again. Sounds like a plan?"  
  
"You are highly illogical," Spock said, meeting Jim's eyes. "The probability of us dying on the same day by natural means is less than 1 to 10,000,000."   
  
Jim just smiled at him, and suddenly, Spock had a very strange, eerie feeling of being watched. He looked around, but there was no one in the garden except for them.  
  
"What?" Jim said, looking around, as well.  
  
"Nothing," Spock said, shaking off the feeling. Perhaps he had simply imagined it.   
  
In silence, they entered the house through the back door and were about to cross the hall when Spock heard footsteps and voices. Recognizing T'Pring's voice, he froze. It appeared T'Pau had already arrived and might be heading their way.   
  
Grabbing Jim's arm, Spock pulled him inside the closest room.   
  
"Dammit, Spock! What are you—"   
  
"Be silent, T'Pring is heading this way," Spock said. His pulse quickened when he realized that footsteps were heading towards this very room. Glancing around, Spock pushed Jim into the wardrobe, pushing the robes aside.   
  
"Spock—" Jim started protesting when Spock attempted to close the wardrobe door. Glaring at Jim, Spock clasped his mouth, and having no other choice, got into the wardrobe, as well. He barely managed to close the door behind them when several people entered the room.  
  
Spock held his breath, his heartbeat elevated by seventeen percent. Thankfully, Jim appeared to understand the seriousness of the situation and became quiet as well, his back pressed against Spock's chest. It was not completely dark in the wardrobe, thanks to the light coming from the gap Spock had accidentally left.   
  
"You indicated the desire to speak. Speak," said a cold male voice. Recognizing it, Spock somewhat relaxed. The voice belonged to the estate manager, Stonn. Spock did not know him very well, since Stonn was ten years older, but Stonn and his family had known of Jim's existence from the very beginning and had proven themselves loyal and trustworthy; the family had worked for their clan for generations.  
  
"I wish to know why you have been avoiding me," T'Pring said.  
  
Spock's eyebrows furrowed. He had not known T'Pring had more than a passing acquaintance with Stonn. While T'Pring visited the manor with T'Pau quite often, the visits usually were not long enough to become closely acquainted with staff.   
  
"Perhaps I do not desire your presence," Stonn said coolly.  
  
"Cease uttering lies," T'Pring hissed out, and Spock's eyebrows crept up. He felt Jim tense in surprise against him.  
  
"As you are well aware, lying is illogical."  
  
"Indeed?" T'Pring said, her voice tinged with challenge and… something else. "Then tell me that you do not desire me, Stonn. If you can."   
  
Spock felt Jim chuckle softly and clasped his hand against Jim's mouth harder. Fortunately, the pair seemed too engaged in their argument to pay attention.   
  
"What do you want, T'Pring?" It had been said almost with resignation.  
  
"As I thought: you cannot say it."  
  
"I am asking you again: what do you want, T'Pring?"   
  
"I want you," T'Pring said firmly, making Spock's eyes widen. Such... forwardness for a well-mannered girl of eighteen was unheard of.  
  
Stonn made a strange strangled sound. "You want me, but you wish to marry Spock. I find your reasoning illogical."  
  
Jim stiffened against him. Spock was surprised himself. It appeared Jim had been partially correct about the reason of T'Pring's visits.  
  
"On the contrary, it is perfectly logical. I will marry Spock for social status and to guarantee that T'Pau will support my political career. You know her—she is illogically attached to him. You and I will live in the same house and will continue our liaison. It will be a perfect arrangement."   
  
Jim made a choked sound against his palm, clearly angry on Spock's behalf. Spock was not angry; T'Pring's arrogance and self-confidence was almost amusing. What made her think that he would choose her as a bondmate?   
  
"Admirable logic," Stonn said.  
  
"Thank you."  
  
"However, there are factors you neglected to consider."  
  
"And what those would be?"  
  
"You have forgotten to ask Spock's and my opinions on the matter. What gave you the impression that Spock wishes to marry you?"  
  
"Why would he not? I am a perfectly suitable candidate for a wife: intelligent, aesthetically and sexually appealing, and of a very good family."  
  
"You are also a spoiled little girl," Stonn said, sounding snappish. "Moreover, you lack several qualities that Spock finds appealing."  
  
"I do not believe you," T'Pring said coldly, before asking, "What qualities?"  
  
"It is not my place to discuss it."  
  
Spock frowned. What did Stonn mean?  
  
"I do not believe you. You are merely jealous that I wish to marry him and not you."  
  
"Jealousy is illogical," Stonn said tersely.  
  
"Indeed?" T'Pring's voice sounded closer to Stonn.  
  
"Cease doing this." Stonn sounded breathless.  
  
Before Spock could stop him, Jim shifted forward and looked through the gap. Jim's mouth fell open against his palm.  
  
Curious, Spock leaned forward and looked, too. His skin heated.  
  
Stonn and T'Pring were kissing passionately, their fingers moving together in a rhythm as old as time. Both of them were panting slightly, eyes glazed, T'Pring's face flushed green.   
  
"Stonn," she breathed out, wrapping her free hand around his neck. "Please. I have missed you."  
  
Stonn's eyes flashed. "You did not miss me," he grated out, but didn't stop kissing her. "You missed having something  _in_ you. You will have  _anything_ in you."  
  
"Do not say that," she said, breathing hard.  
  
"I can say whatever I like," he said, biting behind her ear. He squeezed her breast with his free hand and she moaned. "Do not expect sweet words and courtesy from me. I am not a gentleman, after all. I am just a lowly servant, not worthy of marrying. I'm only good for  _fucking_ , am I not?"   
  
"Stonn," she gasped out as he squeezed her nipple through the fabric.   
  
"I hope I did not offend your pureblood ears with such a low-class word," Stonn said mockingly, pushing T'Pring's dress down to reveal her full breasts with erect, light-green nipples. He started kneading them, making T'Pring produce moans and gasps.   
  
Jim made a small sound and Spock felt him doing something. He froze when he realized what exactly Jim was doing: Jim had pulled out his penis from his shorts and was stroking it.  
  
"Cease this immediately," he hissed into Jim's ear. Jim merely huffed a laugh into Spock's palm, leaning back against his chest. Spock had no choice but take Jim's weight, wrapping his other arm around Jim's waist to steady him.   
  
"Stonn... mmm…"  
  
Jim's hand was moving up and down; it kept brushing against Spock's arm on Jim's waist.  
  
T'Pring moaned again. Jim gasped, pressing back, tighter against Spock.  
  
"What do you want, my lady?"  
  
Jim's warm breath was tickling the skin of his palm.  
  
"I want—intercourse."  
  
"Your answer is incorrect, my lady. Say, 'I want you to fuck me.'"  
  
Jim's hand sped up.  
  
"I despise you," T'Pring spat out.  
  
"You don't," Stonn said hoarsely. "You want me.  _Me_ , not Spock. Spock can't give you what you want— he's not a man yet.  _I_ am. Now tell me: I want you to fuck me."   
  
"I—I—I want you to fuck me."  
  
"Good."  
  
Jim let out a moan, but quickly silenced it by pressing his mouth against Spock's palm and biting it. Spock gasped, feeling hot all over.  
  
He felt strange. There was a warmth gathering in his stomach, and his heartbeat was increasing for no apparent reason. Having Jim in his arms had provoked the usual release of dopamine and serotonin in his blood, only much more potent, but now Spock was also registering a rapid increase of testosterone levels in his blood stream.   
  
He felt…  _odd_.   
  
Attempting to shake the strange sensations, Spock looked through the gap again.   
  
T'Pring was sitting on the desk now, appallingly half-naked: her bodice was pushed all the way open and her skirts were up over her hips. Stonn was between her legs, fully dressed but for his unzipped fly, and was pushing the glistening head of his erect penis inside her. T'Pring moaned and wrapped her legs and arms around Stonn and started chanting something unintelligible, her lips parted, eyes closed. She began stroking her breasts with her hands while Stonn thrust into her with grunts.  
  
The strange warmth in Spock's stomach was increasing, shifting lower and lower as Jim bit his palm to muffle any sounds. The heat shifted to Spock's groin when Jim started desperately kissing and rubbing his plush soft lips against Spock’s sensitive fingers. Spock was not certain how, but somehow, his fingers slipped into Jim's— _warm, wet_ —mouth. Jim sucked, and Spock moaned. Distantly he was thankful T'Pring and Stonn were so loud, but his mind was not on them.  
  
His mind wasn't on them because something strange was happening to his body—something that should have been impossible.   
  
He was  _hard_. For the first time in his life, he was painfully aware of the existence of his penis. It should have been impossible. Vulcans could not experience arousal until their first pon farr. And yet, the evidence was undeniable: his penis was hard against Jim's backside. In fact, his penis appeared to have a mind of its own and was urging Spock to rut against Jim's buttocks.   
  
Despite Spock's utter bewilderment, mild panic and best intentions, Spock found himself unable to stop himself from doing it. With a helpless sigh, he closed his eyes and started mindlessly grinding against the curve of Jim's backside. He felt Jim stiffen slightly in obvious surprise, but, after a moment, he resumed sucking on his fingers, which sent jolts of sharp pleasure to Spock's groin.   
  
Spock sank his teeth into Jim's neck and sucked hard to muffle any sounds as he thrust against Jim's backside harder and faster—wanting  _something_ —again, and again, until he saw stars explode behind his eyelids. He shook with his whole body, spurting his semen inside his trousers, his knees becoming weak and unsteady. A few moments later, Jim's hand stopped moving and Jim sagged against him with a muffled groan around Spock's fingers.  
  
Spock was still attempting to gather his thoughts and steady his breathing when the room fell silent—Stonn and T'Pring appeared to be finished, as well.   
  
"I have to go," T'Pring said, sounding amazingly collected. "T'Pau must be seeking me."  
  
Stonn said nothing.  
  
One minute and forty-seven seconds later, they both were gone.  
  
Jim opened the door, and tugging Spock out of the wardrobe, turned to him. "Okay," Jim said, meeting his eyes. His face was flushed, "What the hell was that? I thought you weren't supposed to be able to get it up for, like,  _ten_ more years?"   
  
Spock took a shaky breath in. "I do not know."

  
~*~  
 

  
"All right," Jim said as they returned to Spock's bedroom. "So what do we think?"  
  
Spock stared at the wet spot on his trousers. "It should have been impossible," he said flatly, his mind whirling in confusion.   
  
"Well, maybe you're just an early bloomer, or something?"  
  
Spock shook his head slowly. "Jim, you do not understand. For a Vulcan, it is literally impossible to achieve an erection before his first pon farr, and I am most definitely not at pon farr."  
  
Jim frowned, a concern crossing his face. "You mean, something's wrong with you?"  
  
"I do not know," Spock whispered.  
  
"Hey... hey," Jim said, shifting closer and wrapping an arm around him. "Don't freak out on me, okay?" He kissed Spock on the cheek softly, and Spock's shoulders slowly relaxed.  
  
"I do not understand, Jim," Spock said, pulling Jim closer.   
  
"Me either. But maybe it's just a one-time thing; a fluke? How exactly did it happen – you felt normal, then got an erection all of a sudden?"  
  
Spock looked down. "I became fully aroused when you put my fingers in your mouth and sucked on them."  
  
"Oh."   
  
Spock could not meet Jim's eyes. Seconds ticked by.  
  
"Maybe we should…"   
  
Spock looked back to Jim, who appeared unusually flustered.  
  
Jim licked his lips. "Maybe we should do it again, and… and see what happens?"   
  
Spock stared at him. "You wish to suck on my fingers?"  
  
Blushing, Jim looked anywhere but him. "Um, yeah? For… purely scientific reasons?"  
  
Spock looked at Jim's full lips. His fingers tingled.   
  
"Very well."  
  
Jim took his hand and tugged him to the bed. "Sit."   
  
Spock did. Jim sat next to him, then stared down at Spock's hand in his. After four seconds, he brought the hand to his mouth and tentatively kissed the tips of the fingers. Spock inhaled sharply.  
  
"Like this?"  
  
"The sensation is… pleasant."  
  
Jim gave a long lick to the fingers; Spock barely swallowed a moan. He felt his blood rush to his groin, and his penis started to ache pleasantly.   
  
"You're getting a hard-on," Jim said, blue eyes fixed on the bulge in Spock's pants as he licked the fingers again. "Pull it out?"  
  
His hand trembling, Spock obliged, freeing his penis from his pants. They both stared at it: Jim with fascination and Spock with quiet mortification. It was big, considerably bigger and thicker than Stonn's, and certainly bigger than Jim's.  
  
It looked disgusting.  
  
"Oh, wow," Jim said, eyes still glued to Spock's ugly penis. "It's, like,  _huge_. I felt it was pretty big when you rubbed against my ass, you know, but... Shit, it's so-“ He exhaled. “I wanna touch it. Can I touch it?"  
  
Spock looked at him incredulously. How could Jim find his monstrous organ aesthetically pleasing? Jim's smaller, pink penis had looked much more appealing to him. "If you wish."  
  
Grinning maniacally, Jim grabbed the penis with his both hands, and Spock had to bit his lip to avoid producing any sound. His eyes rolled to the back of his head as Jim started stroking and groping the penis.   
  
"Shit, that thing turns me on even more than T'Pring's boobs." Jim licked his lips, his face flushed and eyes glazed as he stared at the penis. Abruptly, he leaned down and licked the head wetly, making Spock moan.   
  
"Jim, what are you—doing?"   
  
Jim moaned, mouthing and licking the penis all over, like it was a giant candy. "Tastes good."  
  
Breathing shallowly, Spock watched as Jim took the glistening head into his mouth and sucked. Spock's hips bucked up, and he let out a small groan as he the wave of intense pleasure hit him and he spurt his semen into Jim's mouth.  
  
Jim swallowed carefully, eyes closed, like he was savoring the taste. "Well," he said finally, opening his eyes. "We established that it wasn't a fluke. Your cock works just fine." Jim patted Spock's limp penis lovingly and grinned.  
  
Spock sighed. Only Jim would bring humor into a decidedly not humorous situation.  
  
"But it is not normal, Jim," he said, staring at the semen on Jim's lips in fascination. Illogical, but the sight was… pleasing to him. "I will have to speak to Father about this."   
  
Jim frowned, wiping the semen with his thumb. Spock was not disappointed at all. "Yeah, I guess. But not now, okay? Tomorrow."   
  
"Jim—"  
  
"Nope. Now we will climb under the covers and sleep. Sarek's talking to T'Pau anyway." Jim blushed slightly. "And I sort of, um, have a little problem again. Wanna lend me a hand?" Grinning, Jim pointedly looked at his tenting shorts and wiggled his eyebrows. "Pun totally intended."

~*~

  
  
He could not sleep.  
  
The room was quiet but for the sound of Jim's muffled murmurs in his sleep. Spock watched him for thirty-eight seconds, then got quietly out of the bed and left the room.  
  
He knew it was unlikely that his father was awake at that time of the night, but Spock could not risk missing Sarek before he left the house with T'Pau in the early morning. He did not wish to wake his father, but there was a 6.8% possibility that Sarek was meditating or working.  
  
The corridor leading to Sarek's room was quiet, so Spock did his best not to make any sound as he tip-toed to his father's bedroom. He raised his hand to knock when he heard muffled voices.   
  
"…knew T'Pau wouldn't change her narrow-minded views!"  
  
Spock frowned. What was Amanda doing in his father's quarters at night?  
  
"Indeed, and yet I had to make an attempt." His father sounded resigned.  
  
"Jim is right, you know," Amanda said with a heavy sigh. "It's not living, it's existing. I'm not saying that I'm unhappy, but I'm tired, Sarek. Tired of living in constant fear for Jim, for Spock and myself—even for you, because if they find out, you'll be arrested. I want my son to have a happy, free life, without any fear for the future."  
  
Spock went cold.   
  
"Spock does have a life free of fear," Sarek responded.  
  
"Only because he doesn't  _know_!" Amanda snapped. "And do you really think that he doesn't feel any fear? You know how close he and Jim are. Spock might not know that he is half-human, but he still fears for Jim…"  
  
Amanda was still saying something, but Spock could not hear a word. He must have made some noise, because suddenly the door was pulled open and Spock was looking blankly at his father and—and the woman he knew all his life as his nurse.  
  
Amanda's eyes widened and her hand flew to her mouth as she gasped, paling. "Spock?"

**  
  
  
Interlude II**

  
  
  
At the sound of the knock, Amanda hastily wiped her eyes and turned away from the window. "Computer, open the door."  
  
The slid open, and there was Jim standing at the doorway, looking pale but determined.  
"I wish to talk," he said pointedly, walking in.  
  
She nodded, bracing herself. Jim's reaction to the truth had been nearly as bad as Spock's, and, in some ways, even worse. Spock was too Vulcan to even raise his voice; he simply stared at her and Sarek with the immense hurt, anger and betrayal lurking in his dark eyes, refused to speak to them, completely ignored her, and was quiet and withdrawn all the time.  
  
Jim's reaction, on the other hand, had been violent and loud, and resulted in shouting matches between him and Sarek, baleful glares at her, and overall blatant rudeness.  
  
She didn't know what to do with either of them.   
  
Sarek was no help: he'd had to leave for Shi’Kahr with T'Pau a few hours after the revelation, since they couldn't exactly explain to T'Pau why Sarek couldn't attend such an important Council meeting. He'd been in Shi’Kahr the entire week, coming back only for a day before leaving again. Amanda wanted to be angry with him for leaving her alone to deal with the fallout, but couldn't. It wasn't Sarek's fault. With all the excitement at home, she could care less about the possible negotiations with Earth, but rationally, she knew how important they were, and that Sarek couldn't just leave his position in the High Council without explanation even if he wanted to.  
  
"Please, have a seat," Amanda said softly, gesturing to the armchair a few feet away.  
  
Jim crossed his arms over his chest. "No, thanks, I'm good."  
  
Eyeing his stubbornly set jaw and squared shoulders, she suddenly felt old. He was all grown up, not her little golden-haired angel anymore—not her  _anything_ anymore. "Jim, what can I do for you?"  
  
His blue eyes flashed. "I want you to fix it. Fix it."  
  
She blinked, slowly. "Fix what?"  
  
He glared at her, and only then she noticed that his blue eyes were bloodshot. Her heart tightened. Jim clenched his hands into his fists. "Fix Spock!"  
  
Amanda stared at him. "…I don't know how."  
  
Jim opened his mouth, closed it, scowling. "You have to!"  
  
She smiled slightly, reminded of the little Jimmy who didn't understand why he couldn't have more sweets. Jim was still that kid; yes, he'd been growing quickly, but he was still her little boy.  
  
"Darling," she said softly, reaching tentatively for him.  
  
Jim stared at her hand warily before suddenly throwing his arms around her neck and burying his head on her chest. "I hate it," Jim said hoarsely.  
  
Amanda embraced him back tightly, closing her eyes. "Baby—"  
  
"Don't call me that," he grumbled. "Don't think that you're forgiven or anything."   
  
She smiled, kissing him on the forehead. She missed him,  _so_ much.  
  
"You lied to him—to us—all the time."  
  
"I didn't want to—"  
  
"No! Sarek said it was your idea to not tell Spock."  
  
She bit her lip. "Yes, it was, but do you think it was easy for me? Do you think I liked that my only son considered me just a nanny?"  
  
"Why did you do that, then?" Jim demanded. "All this lying for  _years_ —'  
  
Amanda sighed. "I just wanted my son to be alive. He was a  _child_ , Jim – his mental training was nonexistent, and he couldn't protect his thoughts from T'Pau and his other teachers. He  _couldn't_ know." Her voice cracked. "And I didn't want him to feel like an outsider among Vulcans. I wanted him to have a happy, free life. Not like ours. I didn't want my baby to be locked up somewhere or—or even worse.” Her tone became pleading. “I know he hates me for not telling him, but you understand me, right? You have to. You love Spock as much as I do."  
  
Jim was silent for a while.   
  
"I wish I didn't," he said finally, and her shoulders sagged in relief.   
  
"Thank you," she murmured in English, kissing him on the head. "I love you, sweetheart, you know that, right? As much I as love Spock."  
  
Jim lifted his head, meeting her eyes. He blinked, licked his lips, looking as uncomfortable as only teenage boys could while talking about  _feelings_. It made her smile.  
  
"Yeah," he said with an awkward smile, kissing her on the cheek. He was almost as tall as her, Amanda realized. "But—I don't know what to do with Spock."  
  
She frowned. "What do you mean?"  
  
Jim brushed a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. "He shuts me out, too. He's, like, distant and all Vulcan-y, like he's overcompensating or something. I hate it."  
  
Amanda's worry deepened. Spock needed someone to comfort him, someone for him to confide in.   
  
Jim was pouting, blue eyes sad and clouded. "I want my Spock back, but I don't know what to do."  
  
Smiling slightly, she ran a hand through his golden hair. "Chin up, young man. If anybody can reach Spock, it's you. Just be persistent. You know Spock adores you like a brother. Hell, you  _are_ his brother."  
  
"…Yeah. Right.” Jim averted his gaze and started eyeing his shoes. "I'll go, then. Thanks for the advice."  
  
Amanda frowned as Jim practically flew from the room.


	3. Part II: Jim

  
  
Tip-toeing to Spock's bed in the darkness, Jim quietly slid under the covers.  
  
"If I left the door locked, it meant that I did not desire company."  
  
Jim pressed himself against Spock's back, burying his nose in the soft hairs at his neck. Inhaled deeply. "That rule doesn't apply to me. Miss me?"  
  
"Vulcans do not miss anything. It is illogical."  
  
"Hmm, anything? Not even my awesome self?"  
  
"Negative."  
  
Jim reminded himself that Spock was hurting. It didn't work. "You're being a jerk."  
  
"I am being a Vulcan."  
  
"You're being a fucking xenophobe!" Jim exploded, letting out all the pent-up frustration, anger and confusion of the past week. He pushed Spock onto his back and loomed over him on his elbow. "Do you realize that you're being the worst kind of racist by behaving like it's the end of the world that you aren't a full Vulcan?! So you aren't a pureblood – big deal! Why is it such an insult to you that you're partially human?" It was a pity he couldn't see Spock's expression in the darkness. "Computer, lights to forty percent."  
  
"I do not wish to discuss it further," Spock said in a monotone – now Jim could see that his expression was completely blank. "Leave."  
  
Jim stared down at him. "You don't get to do this. You can't just—just push me away like I'm nothing. Don't you l-like me anymore?" God, he hated talking about feelings.  
  
"Vulcans do not feel," Spock said evenly, his face still blank.  
  
Jim narrowed his eyes before leaning down until their faces were a couple of inches away. "Guess what? You aren't Vulcan, Spock."  
  
Spock flinched and glared at him.  
  
"Your mother is human," Jim continued in a low voice. "You're a half-human—an  _emotional, illogical_  half-human. Does it make you angry?"  
  
"No," Spock said, glowering at him.  
  
Jim smiled and kissed him on the nose. "You're cute when you're pissed."  
  
"Cease this," Spock hissed out with another glare.  
  
"Not until you quit being an asshole to me and stop pushing me away. Not until you beg me to take you back." Jim kissed him on the cheek.  
  
"I will do no such thing," Spock said tersely, but he wasn't pushing Jim away like he could have.  
  
Jim nuzzled Spock's skin with his nose, inhaling deeply. "Spock, I'm human. You know that, right?"  
  
"Of course."  
  
Jim kissed a corner of Spock's mouth; felt Spock's warm breathing against his. "Do you want me to be different? To be more like a Vulcan?"  
  
"Do not be ridiculous."  
  
"Do you think that being Human is worse than being Vulcan? That your Vulcan classmates are better than me?"  
  
"Of course not," Spock grit out, clearly feeling cornered.  
  
Jim smiled and said, almost against Spock's lips, "Then what's your problem?"   
  
Spock didn't answer. They simply breathed together, sharing the same air. It felt... strangely intimate. More so than hugging or even having Spock's cock in his mouth.  
  
Jim's own cock started hardening at the memory, and he wanted... wanted something. Wanted Spock's mouth, Jim realized. His lips were tingling with the urge to press them against Spock's.  
  
Amanda's words rang in his ears, _You are his brother,_  and Jim had a feeling she would be horrified if she found out about this. He had no clue how to define him and Spock, but he was pretty sure that he wasn't supposed to want to kiss his brother's mouth or salivate at the thought of sucking his brother's cock.  
  
Maybe it was weird; maybe it was unhealthy and sick to be so attached to one person… but so what? Jim didn't give a fuck. It was  _them_. They could be whatever they wanted to be to each other. And if Jim wanted to put his tongue into Spock's mouth, it wasn't anyone else's business.   
  
Jim pressed his lips to Spock's, sending a jolt of dizzying pleasure through him. Spock's breathing hitched. "What are you doing?" he whispered against Jim's lips but didn't push him away.  
  
"I dunno." Another light kiss. A shared breath. "You like it?"  
  
Spock's hand slid into his hair, which made Jim mewl like a kitten. "It is not a matter of liking or disliking." Spock nipped at Jim's bottom lip. "Jim, what are we doing? I have been thinking, and I am not certain"—Spock sucked on his lip, his hand sliding under Jim's shirt.—"that we should be doing this. Brothers are not supposed to have a physical relationship."   
  
"Are we brothers?" Jim murmured, giving Spock shallow kisses. He shifted his hips, making sure that Spock was as hard as he was (he was).   
  
"I do not know," Spock whispered, his hand on Jim's lower back, fingers glazing over the dimples above his ass. Jim moaned and kissed Spock harder, his cock swelling. He badly wanted Spock to move his hand lower and touch his ass – he'd discovered a few months ago that if he put a few fingers in his asshole while he jerked off, he could come so hard that he nearly blacked out.  
  
"We aren't," Jim whispered, licking Spock's lip. "You're fucking  _everything_ to me, but I don't love you as a brother—God, would you move your hand lower? Yeah, touch me there—" Jim gasped when Spock brushed a finger over his asshole. "More. There."   
  
Spock licked the inside of his mouth, making Jim moan, before pushing Jim's shorts down. "I find your posterior—endlessly fascinating," he said between the kisses, his hands squeezing Jim's buttocks greedily. "I wished to do this before."  
  
Moaning, Jim caught Spock's tongue and sucked it into his mouth. "Yeah?" he breathed out when they broke the kiss for the air. "Touch between my asscheeks. I like it a lot."  
  
Spock did. "Yes?"  
  
"Mmm, yeah, but I want… lube. Where's that oil you use for your hands?"  
  
"In – in the nightstand."  
  
Forcing himself to pull away, Jim got on his fours to reach for the nightstand. As he opened the drawer, he felt Spock grab his buttocks. Laughing, Jim turned his head back to look at him. "What are you doing?"  
  
His hands kneading Jim's bare ass, Spock stared at it with a strange expression. "I wish—" He leaned down and bit him on the buttock; Jim nearly came. His fingers shaking, he retrieved the oil and tossed it to Spock. "Here. C'mon," he said, pulling his shirt off and propping himself on his elbows, ass high in the air.  
  
"I do not know… what to do," Spock said, his voice uneven.  
  
Jim chuckled, tugging at his aching cock a few times. "You're doing great. Just do what feels right." He closed his eyes, and a moment later, felt Spock's oiled fingers circle his asshole. "Oh," he gasped, pushing back impatiently, his hole twitching around the tips of Spock's fingers. He heard Spock moan and grinned dazedly. "Like that?"  
  
"Yes," Spock said hoarsely, pushing a finger deeper. Jim let out a whimper as it brushed that sweet spot inside. "There, Spock—more."  
  
Spock gave him more—two fingers, then three, until Jim was groaning and grunting, shamelessly impaling himself onto the fingers. His cock felt like it was about to burst, but it was uncomfortable for his hand to jerk off in that position.  
  
"Jim," Spock said from behind him, his voice tight. "I wish to replace my fingers with… with my penis. May I? Please?"  
  
Jim went still, the thick fog of lust clearing briefly from his mind. He hadn't even thought about the possibility before, but now…  _god_ , he wanted it. Having Spock's cock in his asshole… "Yeah…Yeah. Do it."  
  
When Spock's cock started pushing in, Jim nearly panicked – it felt like he was being torn apart, and Jim had to bit his lip hard not to cry out. He panted loudly and Spock rubbed his belly soothingly.   
  
After a few moments, his inner muscles began relaxing and Jim decided that he kind of, sort of, maybe, liked it. He liked the fullness, the feeling of being stretched open for Spock, having his Spock  _in_ him. The thought of Amanda's and Sarek's horrified faces if they saw them right now crossed his mind, but instead of feeling guilty, it turned him on even more. God, he had to be a fucking pervert, because his cock was fully hard again.  
  
Spock was breathing hard behind him, but he wasn't moving.   
  
"I'm good," Jim gasped out, shifting his hips.   
  
Gripping his buttock so hard that it was painful, Spock pulled out and thrust in. Jim whimpered, half in pain, half in pleasure. Spock froze. "Jim?"  
  
"Don't you dare stop—oh—yeah, like that—" It was weird, but he loved when Spock pulled out more than when he pushed in.  
  
Spock started thrusting in earnest, and soon, Jim was pushing back on the cock, moaning like some whore. He tried to swallow the embarrassing sounds, tried to still his hips, but no matter how hard he tried, it didn't work; every thrust of Spock's cock made his body burn as if on fire, and Jim wanted  _more, more, harder, like that_. He couldn't get enough, his asshole clenching hard around Spock's cock, balls all tight and desperate to unload and cock drooling precum.  
  
"Jim," Spock grit out as he drove into him harder. "I cannot—"  
  
"Yeah—fuck—just touch me," Jim gasped. As soon as Spock's hand closed around his dripping dick, Jim came with a ragged cry. Spock shuddered on top of him before Jim felt his ass fill with come.   
  
Spock slipped out and collapsed next to him.   
  
Panting, Jim turned on his back, feeling high from his orgasm. Grinned dazedly. "There are some perks to being half-human, huh?"  _Shit_.  
  
Thankfully, Spock's simply looked at him with fond exasperation in his eyes.   
  
"Go clean yourself," he said, his face flushed green. "You are covered in an inordinate amount of ejaculate."  
  
Jim smiled lazily, rubbing the come on his belly and thighs into his skin. "I kinda like it. Feels so naughty."  
  
His smile faded when he noticed Spock's expression turn concerned. "Jim, you do realize that we just had actual sexual intercourse? It is not something that can be taken lightly.” His eyes widened. “What are we doing?"   
  
Sighing, Jim pressed his face to Spock's bare shoulder and closed his eyes. "I don't know, but I don't give a fuck if someone would think that it's weird. I know I  _loved_ this, and that's all I care about. Loved you kissing me, touching me, having your cock in me—it felt really intense and  _personal_ , you know?” He smiled. “I can't imagine doing this with anyone other than you. You loved this, too, right?"  
  
"I did," Spock said, running his fingers through Jim's sweaty hair. "Very much so."  
  
Jim smiled wider. He wanted to ask more, wanted to ask if Spock loved it enough to refuse to take a wife, but, in the end, he didn't have the heart.

  
~*~  
  
 

  
Spock had to take entrance exams for the Vulcan Science Academy, so they all moved to Shi’Kahr the next day. Spock had  _informed_ his father that he was taking Jim with him, and, to Jim's surprise, Sarek didn't object – probably because he wanted his son to stop being pissed at him.   
  
That was how Jim found himself living in the house he hadn't been in for years – not since he’d ended up there, thanks to Orion slave traders. (Jim had stopped believing that he ended up on Vulcan because of 'Santa' ages ago; the older he got, the fuzzier that memory was, and the more ridiculous it sounded. In the end, Jim decided that he'd been simply delirious from hunger and cold and had dreamed the whole thing.)   
  
It was four days after their arrival to Shi’Kahr when Sarek broke the news during dinner.   
  
"The decision has been made," he said quietly, looking at Amanda. Jim had noticed that recently Sarek made a point of including her in every conversation, as if to counteract that Spock still pretended that she wasn't there. It made Jim wonder if Sarek, like,  _loved_ her. The idea was too weird, but Sarek had to love her if he’d had a son with her, right? Now it made sense why Sarek never took a wife, as everyone had expected him to.  
  
Amanda frowned. "What decision?"  
  
"The decision on Earth's proposal."  
  
Jim's hand with the glass froze midway from the table to his mouth, and his gaze snapped to Sarek. Next to him, Spock turned his head, too.  
  
"And?" Amanda said.  
  
"We accepted their proposal," Sarek said, avoiding their eyes. "Earth's ship, the  _ESS Kelvin_  is going to arrive to Vulcan in thirty-eight hours for further negotiations."  
  
Instead of feeling elated, Jim felt a pang of dread. Something was up. "So what's the catch?"  
  
"That is none of your concern."   
  
Jim slammed his glass down on the table. "Like hell it isn't!"  
  
Sarek fixed him with a stare and opened his mouth, no doubt to put him in his place, when Amanda interfered softly, "Sarek, please. He just wants to know. I want to know, too."  
  
Sarek glanced at her. "…Very well." He took an audible breath before continuing, "The Council decided that, before carrying on the negotiations, we should ascertain that humans do not have ill intentions towards Vulcan."  
  
Jim narrowed his eyes. "And how are you going to 'ascertain' that?"  
  
Sarek shifted his gaze to the table. "They are going to perform interrogation through mental means."  
  
Amanda gasped. Jim's mouth fell open. "You want to force mind-melds on  _psi-null_  people? Are you out of your fucking mind?"  
  
Sarek's lips formed a thin line. "James—"  
  
"I concur with Jim," Spock cut in, frowning. "Using mild-melds for interrogation purposes is highly distasteful and unethical; not to mention that it is one of the worst crimes on Vulcan. Moreover, using mind-melds in such an aggressive manner is potentially harmful even for Vulcans, much less for psi-null Humans."  
  
"Yeah, you can't do that!" Jim said, grabbing Spock's hand, but this time, it failed to make him feel better.   
  
"It was not my decision to make," Sarek said tersely. "I am far from being pleased by this decision, but there is nothing I can do about it. The Department of Alien Investigations would perform mind-melds on Earth's ambassadors before retrieving memories of the meld from their minds—"  
  
"That's disgusting," Amanda spat. "You want to tamper with the ambassadors' memories, too?"  
  
Sarek couldn't meet her eyes. "Amanda, we cannot allow humans know that we forced melds on them if it turns out that humans have no ill intentions towards Vulcan."  
  
Amanda glared at him. "You know as well as I that I was sick for two weeks after you melded with me for the first time, and I was  _willing_ and you  _weren't_ trying to pry information from my head. How are you going to explain to the ambassadors why they can't stop throwing up for months? That it's the Vulcan flu?"  
  
"I do know that. However, for obvious reasons, I cannot share that information with the Council," Sarek said.  
  
Pursing her lips, Amanda stood up and left the room.  
  
Sarek looked after her for a few moments before following her out of the room.  
  
"It appears I was correct in refusing to meld with you," Spock said, breaking the heavy silence.  
  
Jim shrugged. He'd always wanted Spock to meld them, but Spock had repeatedly refused, even though Jim could see that he wanted it probably even more than Jim. Spock's argument was that he didn't know if mind-melds were safe for humans and had no desire to harm Jim's mind by experimenting.   
  
It looked like Spock had been right— _maybe_. Maybe Sarek and Amanda's minds just weren't compatible. Maybe Sarek just had been an asshole while trying to meld them. Sarek was an asshole, after all.  
  
"I can't fucking believe they're going to do it."   
  
"Jim, you are squeezing my hand too hard."  
  
Jim took his hand away with a sigh. "Sorry."  
  
"Cease being so upset."  
  
Jim chuckled, running a hand over his face. "You're so silly sometimes. I can't stop being upset on a whim, Spock. And I'm not upset—I'm pissed. There's a difference."  
  
"In that case, cease being 'pissed.'"   
  
Smiling slightly, Jim cast a sideway glance at Spock. Their eyes met, and Jim was almost overwhelmed by the wave of affection that swept through him down to his toes. God, sometimes he felt like he was choking with affection for Spock, and the intensity of the emotion never failed to scare him shitless.  
  
"I understand why you are angry, but there is nothing we can do, Jim. Therefore, it is illogical of you to let your anger linger."  
  
"No." Jim got to his feet and started pacing the room. "No; there must be something we can do. I'm not gonna just sit here and let Vulcans go on with their stupid plan. It's fucking disgusting to invite people for negotiating an alliance and then _mind-fuck_  them against their will! How is that different from what the Klingons did to Vulcans?"  
  
"For one thing, Vulcans have no intention of enslaving Humans."  
  
Jim whirled around to him, his mouth slack. "Are you on  _their_ side? What they're gonna do is downright barbaric and— I'm gonna stop them—"   
  
Spock was next to him in an instant. "You will do no such thing," he growled, grabbing Jim's shoulders and shaking him hard. "Jim, promise me that you will not interfere."  
  
Jim stared at him. "Spock, let me go. You're hurting me."  
  
Spock looked down at his hands, only now realizing what he was doing. "I apologize," he said stiffly, stepping back and clasping his hands behind his back. "But Jim,  _promise me._ "  
  
Chewing on his bottom lip, Jim eyed him carefully, and, with a sinking feeling, realized that he couldn't rely on Spock's help. Spock would never help him do something that would "endanger" him.  
  
 _I'm sorry_ , he thought before saying aloud, "I promise."  
  


~*~

  
  
Jim climbed out of the bed, careful not to wake Spock. Tip-toeing to the desk, he quickly wrote a note for Spock:  
  
 _If, by any chance, you wake up before I return, don't worry, OK? I know you'll be angry with me for not telling you, but if I did, you would have never let me go warn the ESS Kelvin. I promise I won't get caught. I’ll return before you know it!_  
  
He bit his lip, before adding,   
  
 _Love you.  
-J._  
  
Jim put the note next to Spock, then looked at his peaceful face, trying to ignore the sudden knot of anxiety that formed in the pit of his stomach.   
  
It wasn't too late to change his mind. He could climb back into the warm bed and go to sleep snuggled next to Spock. God, it was so tempting…  
  
 _Don't be such a coward_ , Jim told himself, and left the room quietly. 

  
~*~  
 

  
Getting out of the house and driving to the space port on Spock's hovercar had been a piece of cake. Moving through the space port without being noticed was hundreds times harder.  
  
Swearing on the inside, Jim quickly ducked behind some crates as two Vulcans walked by. He was lucky it was so dark. If the  _Kelvin_ had arrived during the daylight hours, he wouldn't have had a chance. Fortunately, the  _Kelvin_ was due to arrive at night—Jim checked his watch—any minute now. Thanks to Sarek, he knew that Vulcans were planning to wait until the morning to take the captain and Earth's Ambassadors to the DAI offices and "perform interrogation through mental means" – _mind-rape_  them.  
  
Jim couldn't let that happen. The Humans deserved to know what they were getting into. If they knew, they would be prepared, and Vulcans would be forced to act like civilized people rather than paranoid jerks. Vulcans needed to learn how to trust again, and using mind-melds wasn't a solution.  
  
The only problem was, Jim had no clue how he was going to warn the  _Kelvin_ 's crew. He knew Earth's representatives would beam down to the planet in the morning for the meeting with Vulcans, but he obviously couldn't wait that long. He had to come up with something, and quickly.   
  
Biting his lip, Jim glanced at his watch again. Two hours until the dawn. Spock would wake up soon, if he hadn't already. He had to hurry up.   
  
Judging by the increased activity by the main building of the spaceport, Jim could guess that the  _Kelvin_ had already arrived and was in orbit.   
  
There were only two options: he had to either go to the  _Kelvin_ to warn them personally or send them a transmission. The latter was impossible, because he had no means to do that. The former was… complicated. Beaming up was out of question, because the ship's shields would be up.   
  
Which meant that he had to steal a shuttle.  
  
Which meant that he had to act now.  
  
Looking around carefully, Jim pulled his hood lower and ran toward the shuttle docks, trying to keep to the shadows as much as possible. Thankfully, there were next to no personnel there and the noise of unloading cargo concealed the sound of his footsteps.   
  
Jim chose one of the shuttles in the far area of the shuttle docks, and, opening the panel on its side, started working.   
  
Seven minutes later, he was in the shuttle, for the first time feeling thankful for all the hours Spock had been out and Jim had nothing better to do but read and absorb.  
  
Flopping down on the pilot's seat, Jim stared nervously at the controls.   
  
He could do this. He knew the theory. He could totally do this.   
  
Fuel… check. Safety protocols… check. Radio—  
  
Jim grinned.   
  
Why hadn't he thought it about it? He didn't need to go to the  _Kelvin_ —it was too risky anyway; Vulcans could detect the leaving shuttle.   
  
He would send a radio transmission up there in English. Even if Vulcans caught his transmission, they wouldn't understand a word, since the message Earth had sent to Vulcans had been in Vulcan. Admittedly, it had been bad Vulcan; the humans had probably gotten some data about Vulcan language from those few planets Vulcans had communicated with before the Klingon invasion. All of this meant that Vulcans had never heard a single English word—well, besides Sarek, but Sarek was at home.  
  
Grinning, Jim switched the radio on, adjusted the settings toward the area where he thought the  _Kelvin_ was, and spoke tentatively, "Hello?"  
  
Silence.   
  
Jim bit his lip. Surely the communications officers on the  _Kelvin_ were listening to the radio frequencies?  
  
"Hello," he repeated, feeling less sure and more nervous with every moment. He looked out of the window, but thankfully there were no Vulcans running toward his shuttle. "I need to talk to the  _ESS Kelvin_."  
  
The radio cracked, making Jim flinch.   
  
 _"This is the Kelvin. Who is speaking?"_  said a male voice very slowly, as if its owner couldn't believe his ears.  
  
Jim's shoulders sagged. "I'm—I'm Jim. I'm human like you," he said, feeling pretty weirded out talking to another human. Amanda didn't really count. This man was from Earth. "Look, I don't have much time, so I'll just—Vulcans are—"  
  
 _"Hold on, kid,"_  the man said.  _"We're detecting that the transmission is coming from Vulcan's surface. What are you doing on Vulcan?"_  
  
"Look, it's a long story—I don't have the time—I have to go soon, or they'll catch me-"  
  
 _"You're in danger?"_ The man's voice sharpened.  _"Then we'll beam you up. Commander Pike, lock on the coordinates and beam him up."_  
  
Jim started protesting before changing his mind. It was actually a good idea. He would be beamed aboard, tell everything to the crew, then would be beamed down right in Shi’Kahr. It was less risky that way.   
  
"Okay," he said, then felt the transporter beam sweep over him, and in a blink, the surroundings were swept away and replaced by new surroundings.   
  
Jim found himself in a transporter room with six other people staring at him. Jim's eyes widened as he saw that two security guys had guns pointed at him.  
  
"Whoa, what the hell?" he said, stepping back.  
  
One of the men made a gesture to the security—and they put their guns in their holsters—before stepping forward. "I'm Captain George Kirk of the  _ESS Kelvin_. Who are you?"  
  
Jim met the man's blue eyes and—  
  
 _Captain George Kirk._  
  
And stared.  
  
 _James Tiberius Kirk, isn't it?_  
  
He knew that man.  
  
Where did you know him from?  
  
Jim frowned, straining his memory, and a massive headache hit him out of nowhere, his vision blurring. He stumbled, and distantly heard people yelling and felt strong arms caught him before everything went black.

  
  
~*~  
 

  
He was in some kind of medical facility.  
  
Jim stared at the ceiling, blinking blearily.   
  
"Oh, you're awake! About time," someone grumbled.  
  
Jim shifted his gaze to the speaker, a young, dark-haired guy with a scowl on his face.   
  
"I'm Medical Intern McCoy," the guy said, frowning down at the tricoder in his hand. "You caused one hell of a havoc, kid."   
  
"I'm not a kid. I'm Jim."  
  
McCoy shot him a strange look. "Yeah, we know."  
  
Jim frowned. "What do you mean 'you know'?"  
  
McCoy snorted. "DNA test is our friend. The Captain nearly had a heart attack when he got a good look at you. He's still freaking out, so our CMO forbade him to come into your ward until his heart is better."  
  
The Captain. That man. George Kirk.  
  
 _Dad, putting him onto his lap and looking at him solemnly. "Jimmy, we can't take you with us. You will stay with Mom's friend Debora in San Francisco. You love Aunt Debora, right? We'll be back soon, I promise." A kiss on his nose. "And I'll bring you an awesome present from an alien planet! How about that?"  
  
Jim nodded, biting his thumb. "Okay."  
  
"That's my boy!" Smiling, Dad picked him up and threw him into the air. Jim squealed in delight as Dad caught him._  
  
His Dad. George Kirk was his Dad. George Kirk was his  _Dad_. He was Jim Kirk. James Tiberius Kirk. (Wait, wasn't it the name 'Santa' had called him? Did that mean that had really happened?) His mom was Winona Kirk. He'd had an older brother, Sam, but he’d died from leukemia when Jim was three.  
  
"… kid, are you okay?"  
  
Jim looked back at McCoy. Licked his lips. "Yeah. Is… Can I see—the Captain now?"  
  
McCoy nodded and walked out of the ward.  
  
Jim stared blankly at the opposite bulkhead as more and more memories resurfaced.   
  
He remembered now, even if vaguely, that he had been having an evening walk with Debora when a drunken gang had attacked them. Debora received a blow to her head and fell unconscious, and Jim ran when the men's attention turned toward him. He remembered stumbling and falling, and the sharp pain in his forehead before the darkness took over him. When he regained consciousness, he didn't remember anything but his first name and his age.  
  
His parents hadn't left him. They were simply off-Earth, on some important mission. Debora had been probably in no condition to fetch him from the police station, if she’d even survived; there was a lot of blood.  
  
He had a real family.  
  
Jim looked up as the door slid open and George Kirk walked in.   
  
Jim stared at him, a bit nervously. God, this was his  _Dad_. Weird, but George didn't look like a stranger to him. He didn't look much different from what he remembered, but he was probably forty-two, forty-three now? They actually looked a lot like each other.  
  
"Hey," George said with a tentative smile, dropping into the chair by Jim's bed.   
  
Licking his lips, Jim sat up. "Hi."  
  
They stared at each other in silence. Finally, George cleared his throat. Were his eyes wet? "How? I don't understand—We thought you were—"  
  
"Dead?" Jim said, blinking rapidly to get rid of the stupid tears he could feel rising to his eyes. "Well, I'm not." He chuckled. "Obviously."  
  
Dad grinned widely, and then Jim was in his arms, being hugged like their lives depended on it. "Jimmy," Dad croaked out, squeezing him tightly. He laughed hoarsely. "God, your mom's going to be on cloud nine. It was so hard for her—for both of us—after losing Sam—and then you— We just—So much changed… You have a little sister, you know."   
  
Jim blinked against Dad's shoulder. "Really?"  
  
"Yeah, her name is Angel. She's nine." Dad pulled back to press a kiss to Jim's forehead, then smiled through tears in his eyes. "She'll be delighted to have a big brother."  
  
Jim smiled back, feeling ridiculously warm.  
  
Someone cleared his throat, and they both turned to the door, where a nervous-looking lieutenant was standing. "I'm sorry for intruding, Captain, but the ambassadors are ready to be beamed down. Everyone's waiting only for you."  
  
Jim paled. What? Already? How long had he been out?  
  
"Wait, you have to know something first," Jim started desperately as George stood.   
  
George looked at him, smiling. "Jim, wait for me here, okay? I have to go, but I'll return soon—"  
  
"No, you don't get it, Dad," Jim said urgently, hopping out of the bed and grabbing George's arm. "Vulcans are going to take the landing party for interrogation—they're going to use their telepathy on you—to get into your minds—"  
  
George paled. "What? How do you know this?"  
  
Jim hesitated, unsure how to put it. "I've been living with a Vulcan politician for years. I know it for sure. I heard them talk about it."   
  
George's face darkened. "Vulcan politician? What—how? How did you end up on Vulcan at all, Jim?"  
  
"Look, it's a long story. You see, Orion slave traders sell aliens to some Vulcans, and Sarek—"  
  
"Vulcans take people into  _slavery_?" George said incredulously.  
  
Jim winced. Shit, why couldn't he be as eloquent as Spock? "Not all Vulcans, it's irrelevant right now anyway—"  
  
"It's  _not_ irrelevant," George said, his jaw tightening. "We don't want to associate with a race that takes people into slavery and uses their telepathy on peaceful ambassadors. We didn't even know they could do that." He turned around and strode toward the exit.  
  
"No, wait!" Jim said, running after him. "What are you going to do?"  
  
"We're leaving," George said curtly, looking pissed as hell. "And to think that we were excited about this alliance. Who knew we were going right into a trap?"  
  
Jim's eyes widened and he hopped into the turbolift after his Dad. "Hold on, no! You can't! What about the alliance? You need to go down for talks! Vulcans aren't bad, they just don't trust people easily and want to make sure that humans aren't going to deceive them!"  
  
George snorted and walked out of the turbolift into the bridge. "That's rich. We don't need an alliance with a species that deceived  _us_." He sat down into the command chair. "Mr. Curtis, we're leaving. Plot a course for Earth."  
  
The helmsman's eyes widened, but he nodded curtly. "Aye, Captain!"  
  
Jim was on the verge of panic. "Dad, you can't!"  
  
George's lips pressed into a thin line. "Jim, my decision is final. Go back to the sickbay. We'll talk about how you ended up on Vulcan later."  
  
Jim shook his head frantically, watching helplessly as his Dad contacted Earth's Headquarters and told them everything, then started barking orders into his communicator. Everything had been going so great; how did it go so  _wrong_? He was going to lose his family again after just regaining it; he'd never see his mom, or meet his sister. Goddammit, it wasn't fair.  
  
"All right," Jim said with a sigh. "Do what you want. Just have me beamed down somewhere in Shi’Kahr, okay?"  
  
George stopped barking orders into his communicator and slowly turned his head to him, frowning. "What? What are you talking about, Jim?"   
  
"If you want to leave, fine— It's your decision to make, even though I think it's fucking stupid. Just have someone to beam me down in—"  
  
"Are you insane?" George's face turned an alarming shade of red. "You think I'll leave my only son on this planet? With those treacherous xenophobic crazies?"  
  
Jim felt a cold dread squeeze his belly into knots. "You—you have to—I need to return—to—to—"  _Spock_. "You  _have_ to beam me down!"  
  
"All stations report ready for warp, sir," the helmsman said. "Two Vulcan ships are approaching us!"  
  
George turned away from Jim. "Let's punch it," he said, and before Jim's widening eyes, the red planet disappeared from the viewscreen.   
  
"No," he whispered, shaking his head. " _No_."  
  


**  
  
  
Interlude III**

 

  
  
Amanda put her ear to the door, but could hear nothing.   
  
She worried her lip. Spock hadn't been out of his room for two days. Even for a half-Vulcan, it was too long to go without sustenance. Sarek had told her just to give Spock some time—that he would emerge when he was in control of himself—but she couldn't do it. Her heart, all her being, ached for her son. She wanted to be there for him, to support him, to hold him, but she knew that Spock wouldn't accept it from her. The few times she actually had dared to come inside and ask Spock how he was doing, she received a flat  _I am in sufficient physical condition and would like not to be disturbed_.   
  
God, it wasn't healthy. She'd even tried to persuade Sarek to talk to his son, but he’d refused on the basis that he had more pressing matters to deal with, and for once, he did.  
  
After the  _ESS Kelvin_ 's abrupt departure, all hell had broken loose. Earth-Vulcan relations became highly strained. From what Amanda understood, Earth's government was very angry, while the Vulcan High Council only became more suspicious of Humans' intentions. The Vulcans' argument was that if Humans had had nothing to hide, they would not have escaped when they found out about the interrogation. (The Humans hadn't told the Council how they found out about it, and for that, she was thankful.)  
  
Vulcan and Earth weren't in an open war, but it had been agreed that if a Vulcan or an Earth ship crossed the borders of the newly established Neutral Zone, it would be attacked with no questions asked. Amanda suspected that the only reason Earth didn't declare a war against Vulcan was because they couldn't afford fighting a war on two fronts.   
  
Sighing, Amanda walked away from the door, down the empty corridor. The house was so quiet.   
  
Too quiet.  
  
She stopped beside the familiar door, and, pushing it open, went inside. Her chest tightened painfully as she took in the surroundings: clothes everywhere; books scattered all over the couch and the desk; a collection of handhelds taking an entire bookcase.  
  
A single holo of two boys of six and five sleeping curled next to each other.   
  
Amanda walked over and took the holo from the nightstand, her eyes were stinging as she sat down on the bed. She felt empty, drained, and so achingly alone – more so than ever in her life.   
  
 _I've lost you both._  
  
She wouldn't cry, couldn't cry, or Sarek would notice when he got back from the Council, and she didn't want to upset him. No matter how well Sarek hid it, she knew it was hard for him, too. He loved Jim in his own way, even though he'd never shown it.   
  
"Be safe," she whispered, stroking the small blond head with her thumb.  
  
The door creaked open and she looked up. Spock was standing in the doorway.   
  
"Don't go," she implored when he made to leave. He hesitated before stepping inside and closing the door behind him.  
  
Amanda looked away, not wanting him to see how close to tears she was. She felt him sit down on the bed.  
  
They stayed silent for a long time.   
  
"Are you okay?" she said finally, staring down at the holo. She was the one who'd taken the picture, just a few months after Jim started living with them. It felt like a lifetime ago.   
  
"I am in perfect health," Spock said and Amanda's throat tightened.  
  
  
 _"But why doesn't Spock have to drink that awful potion, too? Unfair!" a six-year-old Jim complained to her, then coughed violently.  
  
"Because I am in perfect health, Jim," Spock said, wrapping a blanket around Jim's small frame. Jim pouted.  
  
"But, if it will make you more cooperative, I will drink it also."  
  
She smiled proudly at both of them.  
  
_  
"Spock," she said through the huge lump in her throat before meeting her son's eyes.   
  
What she saw in them, made her chest tighten even more. "Oh, Spock," she said, taking his hands in hers.   
  
"I am well, and I would appreciate if you let go of my hands," Spock said evenly—or tried to. His voice cracked.  
  
Letting go of his hands, she cradled his face in her palms. Spock stiffened, but didn't push her away.   
  
"Sweetheart," she said softly, her tears threatening to spill. "You don't have to put on a brave face with me. I'll always love you and will always be proud of you, no matter what." She tried to smile but couldn't. "You'll always be my little boy for me. I don't care if you aren't “Vulcan” enough, or if you aren't “Human” enough. Talk to me, Spock. Don't keep it inside—it's not healthy."  
  
Spock's Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. "I do not know— I do not know what to talk about." His voice wavered, and Amanda could see his defenses breaking. God, she couldn't stand it anymore—she couldn't watch her baby hurt and do nothing. She pulled him into her arms, and he let her, allowing her to hold him.   
  
It had been more than ten years since the last time he let her hug him, and, while a small part of her was happy to finally have her son in her arms, her heart was heavy. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Spock wasn't supposed to be trembling in her arms.   
  
"Shhh," she whispered, rubbing soothing circles across Spock's back, her throat impossibly tight and tears streaming down her cheeks. She felt more helpless than ever. "Shhh, it'll be all right, baby." It might, but nothing would ever be the same.  
  
"Jim—is—" Spock croaked out against her shoulder. "He is gone. Forever."  
  
She bit her lip and tightened her arms around her son. "You might see him again. One day." They both knew that she was lying.  
  
"I do not— I do not know how to live without him," Spock whispered barely audibly. "I do not know what to  _do_ —"  
  
He started shaking in her arms, and Amanda froze, realizing that he was…  _crying_. There were no tears, because Spock didn't have tear ducts, but that made it even worse. Spock, her baby, her everything, was making hoarse, awful sounds and clutching her almost painfully.   
  
She cried for both of them.


	4. Part III & End

_San-Francisco_

_2259_

 

  
  
"Commander." Two female cadets saluted him with smiles, and Jim winked at them as he strode toward the entrance to the Starfleet Headquarters.   
  
"You're late," Bones grumbled. "Nogura will have our heads."  
  
"I'm not," Jim said, throwing an arm around his friend and clasping his shoulder. "And is this the way to greet your best friend you haven't seen for half a year?"  
  
McCoy just snorted as they walked inside the building. "So how was Andoria? Or should I say how were Andorian girls?"  
  
Jim grinned. "Aw, Bones, you wound me. I was on a serious diplomatic mission, building the  _Federation_ —not chasing after blue girls." He winked. "Besides, I like them green; you know that."  
  
Bones snorted again. "Yeah, right. Like you care about color as long as they have a pair of tits or a dick. Or both." He sobered up before Jim could defend his non-existent honor. "So how many now? Planets, I mean, not girls. Obviously."  
  
"Seventeen," Jim said, not without pride. Hell, he did have a reason to be proud of himself, after all. "It’s working, Bones!"  
  
McCoy grunted. "Yeah, good job, kid. To be honest, I thought you were nuts when you first suggested the idea of a Federation all those years ago, but who would've thought that, in four measly years, we'd be able to persuade seventeen planets to enter one?"  
  
"Yeah," Jim said, thinking about how many people had thought that he was crazy, how much effort he'd made to force the Admiralty to hear out the ambitious idea of “some cadet.” Hell, if it weren't for his dad's friend, Admiral Archer, no one would have listened to him.  
  
"So what does Nogura want?" Bones said as they strode down the long corridor leading to Admiral Nogura's office.   
  
Jim shrugged. "Dunno. I've already sent them the report of the mission. Maybe they have some additional questions."  
  
"Maybe, but why did they ask me to come, too?"  
  
Jim frowned. "Yeah, that’s weird. Come to think of it, Dad and Mom were acting strange yesterday. Like they know something I don't."  
  
"Hmm.” McCoy pushed the doors into Nogura's office open. “Well, let's find out?"   
  
Jim blinked, seeing not only Nogura, but Admirals Komack, Barnett and Archer as well. He saluted quickly. "Sirs."  
  
"At ease," Nogura acknowledged. "Kirk, McCoy. Please, sit down."  
  
He and Bones took seats. Jim eyed the Admirals, who eyed him back.  
  
"Commander Kirk," Nogura started finally, folding his hands before him. "First, I want to underline that this meeting is unofficial. If you turn the offer down, it won't go into your record and won't compromise your career in any way."  
  
Jim narrowed his eyes. He didn't like it already.  
  
"Doctor," Nogura continued, looking at Bones. "You are here for mostly the same reason as Commander Kirk. If you agree to participate in the mission in question, you will take a temporary position of the Chief Medical Officer of the  _USS Potemkin_ —"  
  
"Wait, what?" Jim blurted. "The Federation Flagship?"  
  
The Admirals stared at him.  
  
Jim flushed. "Sorry, sir, go on."  
  
"Yes, the Federation Flagship," Nogura said. "And same goes for you, Commander. If you accept, you'll be promoted to the Captain's rank and given command of the  _Potemkin_."  
  
Jim blinked, then exchanged a look with Bones. What kind of mission was it if the Admiralty thought that they could turn down  _that_ offer?  
  
"Sir, wasn't Captain Pike assigned to the  _Potemkin_?" Jim said.  
  
Nogura nodded. "That's right. However, five days ago, the  _Potemkin_ had a bad mission, and Captain Pike, the ship's CMO, and several other crewmembers were badly injured. Nothing a few weeks of rest, physical therapy, and good food can't take care of, but right now, they are temporarily indisposed, and we need to send the  _Potemkin_ on a mission in four days."  
  
"What is the nature of the mission?" McCoy said with his usual half-scowl, as if Jim didn't know the he was nearly jizzing at the thought of the  _Potemkin_ 's medbay.   
  
Nogura leaned back in his chair. "We received a transmission from Vulcan."  
  
Jim's heart skipped a beat.   
  
Nogura met his eyes. "Apparently, the Vulcans have heard about our success in building the Federation and are very impressed by our peaceful intentions. Apparently, they want to start talks about a possible alliance."  
  
Jim wet his dry lips. "And you don't believe them."  
  
"Of course not," Nogura snorted. "It's Vulcans we're talking about. It's more likely that they feel threatened that the Federation—and Earth—is becoming stronger every day. They probably want to meddle into our minds again to find out about our intentions, or even destroy us before we become too strong for them. Who knows?"  
  
Jim took a deep breath. "I don't understand. If you don't want to accept the offer, what's the problem?"  
  
The Admirals exchanged looks.   
  
"The problem is, son," Archer said. "We can't just decline their offer. We declared that the Federation is open for everyone, that our members are always free to leave it or enter it. We can't reject the Vulcans without a good reason, and we don't  _have_ a good enough reason, because the Federation isn’t just Earth. Vulcans have never done anything to other seventeen planets of the Federation. Quite the opposite, really— the other members are rather excited about the prospect of an alliance with the only planet that won a war with Klingon Empire. If we force our opinion on the other Federation members, it’ll destroy all the trust we’ve built. You know better than me, Kirk, how hard it was to convince new members that the fact that the Federation Headquarters were located on Earth didn't mean that the planets would be under Earth's command."  
  
"Yeah, I know," Jim said absently, his mind racing. "So you want to send the  _Potemkin_ for the talks with the Vulcans?"  
  
Komack nodded. "The  _Potemkin_ is the best ship we have, with the most advanced weapons, sensors, and medbay. We sent Vulcans a transmission that the talks would take place in the Neutral Zone between Earth and Vulcan. It was agreed that they would send one Vulcan ship and we would send one Federation ship."  
  
"And we want you in the command chair of the  _Potemkin_ for obvious reasons," Admiral Barnett said, looking at Jim. "You speak Vulcan, so it's an extra advantage, since the Universal Translator isn't yet as good as we'd like. And, what's more important, you  _know_ Vulcans. You know how they think, since you lived on Vulcan for over a decade."  
  
"And you're the best we have, son," Archer said with a kind smile. "You're long due to be promoted to the rank of Captain anyway; we just didn't have a ship for you. After the mission is over, you will hold the rank of Captain and will have to wait just a few years until the construction of the  _USS Lexington_  is finished."   
  
Jim wanted to laugh. They had no idea. They were trying to persuade  _him_. What an irony.  
  
"Of course, we understand that it's a lot to ask, Commander. It's a very dangerous mission," Nogura added, his expression grim. "If you agree, you should understand that we're possibly sending you into a battle against a ship that most likely is more technologically advanced than the  _Potemkin_. We don't know what to expect from the Vulcans at all. We don't know what will happen after the  _Potemkin_ arrives at the rendezvous point, but we trust your ability to act according the situation. We only need a proof of Vulcan's hostile intentions towards a  _Federation_ ship; that'll be enough to show the other Federation members what slimy bastards Vulcans are."  
  
"You don’t think, even for a moment, that the Vulcans could be sincere?" Bones said with a frown, voicing the question Jim had been dying to ask.  
  
Admiral Komack snorted. "Of course it's a trap. Why would the Vulcans suddenly have a change of heart and stop being xenophobes? After nine years of tension, their sudden friendliness is more than a little suspicious."  
  
"So what's your answer, Commander Kirk?" Nogura said, looking at Jim. "If you don't want to do it, we have other candidates—"  
  
"I accept, sir," Jim said quickly, hoping that he didn't look too eager.  
  
Bones looked at him with narrowed eyes. "Me, too," he said.  
  
Nogura smiled. "Very well, gentlemen. Congratulations on your promotions, Captain, Chief Medical Officer."  
  
"Thank you, sir," Jim heard himself say, but his mind was already miles, parsecs away.  
  
 _Vulcan_.   


~*~

  
  
"You do realize that we aren't actually going to Vulcan, right?" McCoy said from his seat opposite Jim. "We're going to the Neutral Zone, to meet a ship, exchange fire and go back to Earth. The end."  
  
Jim took a sip from his beer. "Sure, Bones."  
  
McCoy narrowed his eyes, his scowl deepening. "Why don't I believe you?"  
  
Jim shrugged, taking another sip. Hummed happily. "Damn, I missed beer. Andorian beer tastes like piss—"  
  
"Jim, you aren't going to pull some crazy stunt like crossing the borders of the Neutral Zone and going to Vulcan on maximum warp, right?"  
  
"Don't be ridiculous, Bones. I'm not suicidal."  
  
McCoy raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Oh, really?"  
  
Jim gave him a flat look. "I would never endanger my crew like that."  
  
Sighing, McCoy ran a hand over his forehead. "Yeah, sorry, I know. It's just… It's hard to believe that you won't pull some crazy stunt, Jim. It's  _Vulcan_ we're talking about, after all. You can pretend all you want, but I've been there, kid."  
  
Averting his gaze, Jim took a big gulp from his bottle. "I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"For fuck's sake, I saw how bad you were after the  _Kelvin_ warped out of the Vulcan solar system! I heard you crying at night, and I heard you going into hysterics and demanding from your dad to return you to Vulcan. You think I'm an idiot? You ain't foolin' me with that shit!"  
  
Jim chuckled, looking anywhere but McCoy. "I was a kid, Bones – a kid who ended up among lots of strangers who claimed to care about me. I think it's normal that I was a bit agitated back then. It's been nine years."  
  
"Oh really? So you’re saying that it's just a regular diplomatic mission for you, no emotions attached?"  
  
Jim looked down at his nearly empty bottle, whirled it in his hand. "No, I'm not saying that, but I'm not going to endanger my crew. I promise this to you as your commanding officer – I'm not emotionally compromised, don't worry."  
  
"Look at me when you speak with me, Jim."  
  
He did, meeting McCoy's eyes steadily. "Happy now?"  
  
Bones frowned deeply, looked down before looking back at him. "Jim… I'm worried about you— No, listen, kid! Sometimes I look at you, and you look happy, all smiley, flirty, and shit, but it's like—like it's not real deep, you know? I'm not saying that you're unhappy or that your smiles are fake—nothing like that—it's just…" Bones ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "Dammit, I don't even know—"   
  
"Bones," Jim cut him off, not unkindly. "Don't, okay? I'm fine. I know what you mean, but I'm fine. I have an awesome family, an awesome job that matters, and an awesome grumpy friend who actually gives a damn about me." Jim winked at Bones. "I'm good. More than good." He put the bottle down on the table and jumped to his feet, grinning. "All right, I'm done talking about feelings. I have to meet with the  _Potemkin_ 's department heads and fill the vacant positions with new people. Coming?"  
  
McCoy gave him a long look before standing up. "Yeah. Let’s go."

~*~  
  
 

  
Jim threw a few changes of clothes into a bag along with some toiletries before looking around the bedroom, wondering if he’d need anything else. Unlikely. It would be only a short mission.  
  
Also, he probably needed to finally move out of this house, because it was getting downright pathetic: a twenty-six-year-old still living with his parents. He'd wanted to do it for a while but just hadn't gotten to it yet between all the missions.  
  
The door creaked open and Jim turned around. "Mom?"  
  
Leaning against the doorway, Winona smiled slightly, but Jim could see the worry in her eyes. "All packed up and ready to go?"  
  
"Yeah, almost."  
  
She sighed, brushing a hand through her graying locks. Jim kind of liked that she didn't dye her hair. "I wish you hadn’t taken this mission."  
  
Jim looked back to his bag. "Mom, we've already talked about this," he said, his voice final. "I'm going. It's too late for this conversation anyway. The  _Potemkin_ is leaving in ten hours."  
  
"I know. I just wish you wouldn’t go." He heard her sigh again. "And I wish you hadn’t enlisted in the 'Fleet. Why wouldn't you go to Oxford like Angel?"  
  
Jim grabbed a PADD from his desk and tossed it into his bag, even though he didn't need it. "Because I'm not Angel, Mom. Because I believe that I'm doing a job that needs to be done. And don't be such a hypocrite."  
  
"I know—I just… I'm scared, Jimmy."  
  
"If it makes you feel better, I promise you I won't die."  
  
"That’s not what I'm scared of," she said quietly.  
  
Jim's hand went still for a moment before continuing tossing the shit on the desk into his bag. "Mom, I'm completely healthy. Doctor Grint told you so seven years ago; Starfleet's psychiatrists said so;  _I'm_  telling you so. I'm well over it, okay?"  
  
"Don't yell at me, young man."  
  
"I'm not yelling!" he snapped before realizing that he was. Jim took a deep breath. "Sorry."  
  
He heard her walk closer before she touched his shoulder, forcing him to turn to her. "Jimmy," she said softly, and Jim tensed, because Mom wasn't the kind of woman who spoke softly. Amanda was; Winona most definitely wasn't. "I know that Doctor Grint said that you were fully recovered from your—your codependent and self-destructive tendencies, and I fully believe it. You've changed a lot since that awful first year, but—"  
  
"It's been nine years, Mom," Jim said, wanting to be anywhere but there.  
  
"Yes, it's been nine years. I'm just scared that interacting with Vulcans will bring back the memories and—"  
  
Jim snorted. "Mom, don't be ridiculous. I'm not gonna have a 'relapse' just from talking to a few Vulcans."  
  
"But—"  
  
"I'm leaving. I’ll see you in a week." Jim threw his bag over his shoulder, pressed a dry kiss to her cheek, and walked out.  


~*~  
  
 

  
"Captain, the ETA to the Vulcan Neutral Zone is four minutes and twenty seconds," the helmsman said, his voice full of tension.  
  
"Thank you, Mr. Boot," Jim said, leaning back in his—Pike's—command chair.  
  
He closed his eyes and tried to will himself to calm the fuck down. A breath in, a breath out.   
  
The last four days since the Admiralty informed him of the mission had passed in a blur of activity. Getting familiar with the crew and the ship, handpicking new crewmembers for temporarily available positions, endless meetings with admirals, brain-storming with his department heads— it had all kept him busy. It had also kept him wonderfully distracted.   
  
But right now, nothing could distract Jim from the fact that, in four minutes, he would be in the Neutral Zone between the Vulcan and Earth spaces.   
  
So close.   
  
His heart was beating in his chest like crazy, his throat was tight, and his palms were sweating. Jim wondered if he’d overestimated himself when he'd promised Bones that he wasn't emotionally compromised and wouldn't do anything stupid, like giving the order to cross the borders and head for Vulcan.   
  
Don't be ridiculous _,_  Jim told himself. Even if that order hadn't caused an open war between Vulcan and the Federation, it had been nine years. There was no guarantee that he would be welcome. There was no guarantee that he was even missed or remembered. There was no guarantee that it wouldn't be weird and awkward seeing each other after nearly a decade. There was no guarantee that Spock would want to see him.  
  
There was no guarantee that Spock was  _alive_.  
  
The thought made Jim grip the armrests hard and a lump form in his throat, but he couldn't push it away. The truth was, there was a chance that the _Kelvin_ 's escape had thrown suspicion on Spock, because Jim had stupidly left Spock's hovercar in the spaceport. Spock might have been taken for interrogation and the Department of Alien Investigations might have discovered that he was half-human. If it really had happened, not only Spock would have been considered an alien, he would have also been considered a traitor and a spy.   
  
The DAI had the legal right to torture and kill.  
  
 _Spock is alive,_  Jim repeated like a mantra. Of course Spock was alive. He was probably an accomplished scientist and a respected politician, as T'Pau had wanted him to be. He probably had a beautiful pureblooded wife, and maybe even kids. As long as Spock was alive and happy, it would be enough for Jim.  
  
He just needed to know that Spock was all right. That was the only reason Jim wanted to see him. He didn't want anything more; he was perfectly content with his current life. He didn't want to go back to that unhealthy state of mind where Spock was his fucking everything.   
  
The first year on Earth had been a nightmare Jim never wanted to go through again. He’d woken up with thoughts of Spock, went to sleep with thoughts of Spock, daydreamed about Spock, and talked only about Spock. When his parents refused to return him to Vulcan for the hundredth time, he had gone almost insane with anger and had driven George's car off a cliff, nearly killing himself in the process. After that, his parents had forced him to see a psychiatrist.   
  
Doctor Grint had diagnosed Jim as having strong codependent and obsessive tendencies.   
  
Jim had refused to believe it; he even shoved a dictionary under the psychologist's nose, where it was stated that codependency was "pertaining to a relationship in which one person is physically or psychologically addicted, as to alcohol or gambling, and the other person is psychologically dependent on the first in an unhealthy way," and Spock was no addict, thanks. Doctor Grint told him that Jim could educate her when he got a degree in psychology, and that, in the simplest terms, codependency was when a person was addicted to another person and the codependent was unable to clearly think about the relationship and any ill effects that it might have on them. Which, apparently, had applied to Jim.  
  
It had taken a year of counseling before Doctor Grint had declared that Jim was healthy.  
  
Now, looking back, Jim knew that his psychiatrist had been right: there was no way his relationship with Spock had been normal or healthy. He was too dependent on Spock's moods, well being, and love for his happiness. It wasn't healthy that his world had started and ended with Spock.   
  
Now, Jim knew better.   
  
Now he had a  _life_ , real family, lots of friends, an awesome career, and a healthy sex life. He'd had three girlfriends and two boyfriends, and, while those relationships hadn't lasted long, they were perfectly healthy and pleasant, with no obsessiveness or clinginess. Jim hadn't felt like he was choking with affection and love when he looked at them; he hadn't felt like spending every minute of the day with them; and he most definitely hadn't felt like he would die without them.  
  
Yeah, he knew better now. He didn't need Spock anymore. He was completely over him.  
  
 _Right, okay,_  a small voice in the back of his mind whispered, but Jim squashed it down.  
  
He had to concentrate on the job at hand. The only way he could ensure that Spock was all right was to establish a truce between Vulcan and Earth. Unlike the Admiralty, Jim was more than willing to give Vulcans the benefit of doubt. He needed that peace between Vulcan and Earth; he would get it no matter what.   
  
It was probably a good thing the Admiralty didn't know his thoughts.  
  
"Captain, leaving the warp in five—four—"  
  
"Shields up. Yellow Alert," Jim ordered, his gaze on the viewscreen.  
  
"—two—one!"  
  
The ship left warp space with a jolt. There was nothing on the viewscreen.  
  
"We are at the appointed coordinates, Keptin!" Ensign Chekov said cheerfully from his station. The eighteen-year-old was one of the new temporary additions to the crew.   
  
"Detecting another ship, Captain," his Science Officer said, his voice ringing with tension.   
  
Jim could hear his own heartbeat racing, thudding, in his ears. "On screen, Mr. Bergman."  
  
A big, beautiful starship filled the viewscreen. Jim blinked, seeing its name on the hull.  _VSS Rillana_  - Enterprise - a pretty unusual name for a Vulcan ship. She must have been new; he didn't remember a ship with that name in the Vulcan Fleet.   
  
"We are being hailed, Captain," his Communication officer said from his station.  
  
Jim licked his lips and sat straighter. "Put them through, Lieutenant."  
  
The bright bridge of the  _Enterprise_ filled the viewscreen.   
  
The Vulcan in the command chair turned his head to the camera, and Jim's breath left him in a gasp.   
  
The Vulcan's eyes widened slightly.  
  
They stared at each other in silence, broken only by the beeping from the stations.   
  
"Captain James T. Kirk of the  _USS Potemkin_ ," Jim croaked out finally through the ridiculously big lump in his throat, looking into the chocolate brown eyes.  
  
"Captain Spock of the  _VSS Rillana_ ," Spock said evenly, their eyes locked. "I am… pleased to make your acquaintance."

  
~*~

  
  
Entering his office, Jim flopped down into the chair behind the desk and dropped his face into his hands. His fingers were shaking— hell, he was shaking all over.   
  
He barely remembered the meaningless words they'd exchanged during the transmission, he was so shocked. It was a fucking wonder he'd had the presence of mind to arrange their meeting to take place in this office adjoining his quarters rather than in the conference room, as he'd initially planned. He couldn't talk to Spock in front of a group of people like he was some stranger and not lose his shit.  
  
God, Spock would be shown to this very room in a few minutes.   
  
Spock. Of all Vulcans,  _Spock_.  
  
He’d changed.   
  
Jim laughed at thought, his harsh laughter echoing in the empty room.  _Of course he's changed, you idiot. You've changed, too. It's been nine years._  
  
For some stupid reason, he'd thought that Spock would have stayed his lanky eighteen-year-old self. The guy in the command chair of the  _Enterprise_ had been undeniably Spock, but he was a grown man now – taller, broader in shoulders, his features rougher – and Jim wasn't sure he knew that man. God, Spock was practically a stranger to him now, and how weird was that thought?   
  
But at least… at least Spock was alive and was doing more than all right if he was the Captain of that gorgeous ship. It was good enough for Jim, even if they were strangers to each other now.  
  
Right.  
  
The door slid open and Jim tensed, but didn't—couldn't—look up.   
  
Footsteps, coming closer and closer.  
  
 _Thud-thud, thud-thud, thud-thud._  His heart felt like it was about to burst out of his chest.  
  
He expected Spock to speak, but he stayed silent, forcing Jim to lift his head.  
  
Slowly, Jim looked up, feeling scared as fuck—just as scared as he was at the age of five when a small pointy-eared "elf" had opened the box he'd been in.   
  
Spock stood a few feet away, staring at him with a strangest expression. His strong hands were twitching slightly by his sides, as if he wasn't sure what to do with them.   
  
Jim looked, and looked, and  _looked_ , before it hit him: this was  _Spock_ , his Spock. Jim tried to say something but couldn't, his tongue thick in his mouth.  
  
"You promised," Spock said suddenly in an accusing undertone, his voice much lower than it used to be.  
  
Jim blinked. "What?" he croaked out.   
  
Spock glared at him. "You promised you would not interfere into the Kelvin's situation."   
  
Jim wet his lips. What he hadn't expected at all was that Spock would be still angry with him after all the years for that broken vow.  
  
"I," he tried, standing up from his chair. He didn't know what to say; didn't know how to talk to that painfully familiar stranger. And it didn't help that his whole body ached for nothing more but wrap all his limbs around Spock like an octopus and never let go— God, what the hell. Wasn't he supposed to be over his unhealthy obsession with Spock? It wasn't love – Doctor Grint had told him so.  
  
"’I will return before you know it,’" Spock said flatly, stepping closer, his nostrils flaring. "Your words, Jim."  
  
Licking his lips again, Jim backed up, his heart beating like crazy. He'd never seen Spock so pissed. "I—"  
  
"It took you only ten years," Spock hissed, stepping closer and backing Jim up toward the bulkhead.  
  
"Nine," Jim managed, then yelped as Spock threw him against the wall with his heavy body. He couldn't breathe, and fucking hell, he had an erection the size of Texas. He wanted to be naked with Spock. Dammit, hadn't he been over Spock?  
  
"Ten  _Vulcan_ years," Spock grit out against his mouth before grabbing fistfuls of his hair and capturing his mouth in an angry kiss, forcing his tongue into Jim's mouth. Jim didn't kiss him, wouldn't kiss him, wasn't kissing him back; he just parted his lips for Spock's tongue, letting him in—letting him home— god, he  _was_ kissing him back and loving every second of it. He didn't give a fuck that the kiss was more like a punishment than anything else, because all his senses were filled with Spock – with his intoxicating scent, the feel of his hot mouth, his heavy body, the texture of his silky hair against his fingers. Fuck, it was Spock. It was like breathing fresh spring air after living in a desert for years.  
  
Spock torn his mouth away and Jim made a pitiful sound, wanting it back. Shit, why was he so weak?  
  
Spock pressed their foreheads together, their harsh breathing mixing together. "I was not planning to do that," Spock said hoarsely, with a note of desperation creeping into his voice. He pressed his hips forward, pinning Jim's own to the bulkhead; Jim gasped feeling a big bulge against his own cock. "It is illogical— You are a different person now— I do not know anything about your life or about why you  _left_ me like that. You deceived me. You left me." Spock's voice cracked and he ground their hips together, making Jim moan quietly. "You left," Spock repeated, biting Jim's bottom lip savagely. "You are  _not_ allowed to do that."  
  
Jim's cock throbbed at Spock's fiercely possessive tone. "Don't talk like that," he managed, trying to gathering his thoughts. "I was counseled by a psychiatrist for a fucking year, and she told me our relationship was always wrong, unhealthy and—"  
  
Spock shut him up with a hard kiss, shoving his body tighter against Jim's. Jim groaned and kissed him back, his body overwhelmed with the most basic of emotions—lust, need, want – and his aching cock seeking friction and release.  
  
Screw Dr. Grint. This was the man he wanted, loved, needed like air, and he didn't give a fuck if their love was unhealthy or sick. He wanted Spock on him, around him, in him; wanted Spock to fuck him, reclaim him – make him forget about all those times he'd closed his eyes and pretended that the man fucking him was his Spock. After those, he'd always felt like throwing up and drunk himself into unconsciousness, because they  _weren't_ Spock. He wanted the real thing.  
  
"Fuck me," Jim demanded between pressing shallow kisses to Spock's mouth. "Want you to fuck me."  
  
Spock went very still for a moment before giving him a needy, intense kiss that left Jim breathless and on the verge of coming in his pants like a teenager. "Bed," Jim managed, taking Spock's hand and pulling him to the adjoining bedroom.   
  
He was only vaguely aware of how they made it into the bedroom and got rid of the clothes. His head was spinning with arousal and he felt love-drunk on Spock, on his hot, dizzying kisses, his hands roaming all over his body as they stumbled into the bed, naked.  
  
Scorching jealousy burst through him when Jim realized that Spock's hands and mouth were too skillful and experienced. “You've done this with someone else," Jim gasped out, glaring at him accusingly as Spock stretched his hole with his fingers. God, it felt amazing to be opened up and spread out under Spock, for Spock.   
  
Spock glared back at him, his pupils blown, face tinged with green from arousal or rage—perhaps both. "It is obvious that you have as well, Jim," he said, adding the third finger, his gaze roaming hungrily all over Jim's naked body and lingering on Jim's cock dripping against his belly. "Of course I have done this before. I am an adult male."   
  
Jim moaned, pushing onto the fingers impatiently. It took him a full five seconds to register the meaning of Spock's words. "You had your Pon Farr?" he croaked out, and for a moment he was sure his heart stopped. "You have a bondmate, then?"  _No, no, please no._  
  
"I had my first Pon Farr a year ago," Spock said, gasping as Jim's hole squeezed around his fingers. "But I used a hired professional's services. I do not have a bondmate."  
  
"Good," Jim growled, grabbing Spock's other hand and squeezing it hard. "You're mine, dammit."  
  
Spock's dark eyes met his and he whispered a single, "Yes," before withdrawing his fingers and pushing his cock into Jim in one thrust.  
  
Jim's eyes went cross-eyed with pleasure. Moaning, he grabbed Spock's shoulders and pulled him to lie down on him. "Closer—want you closer."  
  
Spock obliged, propping himself on his elbows above Jim. A thrust, then another one, and they both groaned. Jim grabbed Spock's head and pulled him down for a wet kiss as Spock began moving in and out in a delicious rhythm.  
  
They kissed wetly, Jim clutching Spock close,  _closer_ , wanting to disappear in his skin and never reappear again. He felt something within him shift, rearrange itself, the void in his heart filling to the brim with love, want, affection, and grief – grief for all the years spent without this. It was like coming home.   
  
"Jim," Spock breathed out against his lips, his thrusts speeding up and becoming more forceful. "Ashayam— I—"  
  
Jim felt his eyes sting and clutched Spock tighter, moving against him. "I know; me, too."   
  
His eyes were burning hot, and what the fuck, he was a Starship Captain, he was twenty-six years old—and he most definitely didn't cry during sex, dammit. "Harder, love," he whispered, his whole world narrowing to Spock's cock moving within him. His balls were tightening, and he— "Oh, there."  
  
Spock slammed into him again and again, and Jim started groaning as Spock hit his prostate over and over until Jim couldn't think, couldn't talk but babble unintelligibly, pulling Spock tighter to himself. Finally, he came with a hoarse moan, hugging Spock desperately.  
  
Spock shuddered and Jim felt hot come fill his insides before Spock fell on top of him, breathing raggedly. He was too heavy, but Jim didn't care.  
  
It was bliss.  
  
Jim had no idea how long they lay like that. When he regained some awareness of the surrounding world, he found that Spock had shifted slightly so that he wasn't pressing Jim down with his whole body anymore.  
  
Jim turned his head aside to look at Spock and found him looking at him with a soft expression in his eyes. Jim smiled at him, feeling ridiculously warm and happy, like an awkward and overexcited puppy. God, he felt seventeen again. It was like all the years had disappeared, and he was just Jim again, not James T. Kirk, Starfleet Captain.  
  
"Hey there," Jim murmured with a lopsided smile, putting a hand on Spock's fuzzy chest.   
  
He felt like a kid in a sweets store, wanting everything at once: to talk, to touch and feel.  
  
Spock's lips twitched slightly. "Hello."  
  
Jim looked him into the eyes. "I never meant to leave Vulcan, you know. It was just a coincidence that my dad was the _Kelvin_ 's captain. I tried to convince him to beam me down but—"  
  
"Your father?" Spock repeated, something flickering in his eyes. "You have a family?"  
  
"Yeah. Turns out they didn't leave me or anything – they were just off-planet. I have a Dad, a Mom, and a little sister." Jim chuckled. "Well, I guess Angel isn't that little anymore – she's going to Oxford this year—"  
  
"Have you been happy?" Spock said abruptly, his face inscrutable.  
  
Jim stared at him, then shrugged slightly. "I guess," he said half-truth, choosing not to mention that he had spent his first year on Earth begging Dad to somehow return him to Vulcan. "It's incredibly lucky that we met like that, huh?"  
  
"I do not believe in luck," Spock said quietly. "And it was not 'luck,' since our meeting occurred due to our combined efforts. I understand that you were the one who suggested the idea of the Federation."  
  
Jim raised his eyebrows, his fingers idly playing with the hair on Spock's chest. "You mean all these years you've been working on persuading Vulcans to trust humans?"  
  
"Affirmative," Spock said, glancing at Jim's fingers on his chest with a strange expression. "I have been also working on building my political and military career, so that, when the time came, my opinion had a weight."  
  
Jim frowned. "But what about science? Didn't you enroll in the VSA?"  
  
"I did. Besides my political and military career, I work for the Vulcan Science Academy's Research center. In fact, I participated in the construction of the  _Enterprise_."  
  
"Wow," Jim said with a smile. "Looks like you've been busy. So how did you finally manage to persuade the Council? I bet T'Pau was very much against the alliance."  
  
Spock looked almost amused. "You could not have been more mistaken. T'Pau was my biggest supporter."  
  
"What? Really?"  
  
"I told T'Pau that I was half-human."  
  
Jim's jaw dropped. "You did what? Are you out of your mind?"  
  
Spock's lips twitched. "Your reaction is surprisingly similar to that of my Father when he found out."  
  
Jim stared at him like he was crazy. "You didn't even tell Sarek that you were going to talk to T'Pau?"  
  
"Negative. He would have never allowed me."  
  
"And he would've been right, dammit!"  
  
"He would have been wrong. He was wrong."  
  
"You couldn't know that, Spock! And you have the nerve to say that I'm illogical! It was a huge risk! Why the hell did you do that?"  
  
"Because it was worth the risk," Spock said in a low voice, looking him into the eyes. "Because I knew that without T'Pau's help I would never see you again."  
  
"… Oh." Jim felt his face and heart warm up. "So you told her just like that? Knowing of the possible disastrous consequences? It was very illogical of you."  
  
"I took a leap of faith," Spock said softly. "And it turned out I was correct all along about T'Pau. You, Father, and Mother were quite wrong."  
  
Jim grinned. "Still your smug self, huh— Wait, 'Mother'? You call Amanda 'Mother'?"  
  
"Indeed," Spock said, raising an eyebrow, as if amazed by Jim's stupidity. "She is my mother, after all."  
  
Jim scowled, shifting his gaze to Spock's chest. He tugged at the hair there. "Well, forgive me for being surprised. The last time I saw you, you weren't even talking to her."  
  
When Spock didn't answer, Jim looked back at him. He found Spock staring at him with a strangest expression.  
  
"What?" Jim said.  
  
Spock stared at him some more before reaching up and touching his face. He stroked Jim's jaw-line with his thumb, then his bottom lip, a painful expression flickering through his usually inscrutable face. "I missed you," he said quietly.  
  
Those three words made something break in Jim, and the next moment, he found himself clinging to Spock and pressing hot kisses all over Spock's face, feeling a huge lump lodge in his throat as the tears finally fell.  
  
 _I missed you, too_ , he wanted to say.  _I love you,_  he wanted to say—but couldn't, because of the goddamn lump in his throat. Nine years _._  
  
Spock held him tightly, wrapping him in his strong, warm embrace, and Jim buried his face in his neck, closed his eyes, and thought,  _Home_.  
  
He knew it wouldn't be easy: his parents hated Spock without even meeting him, because, in their eyes Spock was the reason of Jim's two-year-long depression, hysterics, and "suicidal tendencies"; there was the matter of Amanda and Sarek's reactions when they found out  _what_ , exactly, they were to each other (and they would find out, because there was no way in hell Jim was letting Spock get bonded to someone else). There was also the matter of them living on different planets, having separate careers. No, it wouldn't be easy at all.  
  
He didn't give a fuck.  
  
Blinking the tears away, Jim looked up to meet Spock's eyes and grinned at him. "Hey, how do you feel about getting bonded?"  
  
Spock's eyes widened slightly. A green tinge surfaced on his cheekbones. "Are you sure, Jim?" he breathed out, touching Jim's cheek with his fingers almost reverently.  
  
Jim nodded, looking him into the eyes. "Meld us."  
  
Spock frowned, but Jim didn't miss the longing in his eyes. "Jim, it might be painful for you—"  
  
Jim put his own hand over Spock's and brought it to his psi-points. He smiled slowly, holding Spock's gaze. "Let's take a leap of faith, huh?"  
  
Spock's eyes darkened.  
  
Jim grinned at him. "Come on, tiger. You know you want to."  
  
Spock kissed him hard. Jim kissed back, grinning.   
  
Spock's fingers moved in the melding position.

 

 

~~*~~

  
  
  
_Dear Jim,  
  
Your mother called me and told me that you have reunited with your Spock. The news saddened me not only as your former psychiatrist, but also as your friend, because you were always one of my favorite patients.   
  
Although it has been many years since we talked, I remember your case very clearly – it was very unique. It wasn't a classic codependency case, but your dependence on Spock was one of the unhealthiest I've encountered in my practice. Jim, I told you then, and I'm telling you now again: you don't love Spock.   
  
Your 'love' for Spock was cultivated by abnormal conditions: the lack of any other company, no social life whatsoever, and a complete dependence on Spock to provide you with comfort, physical touch and affection. Your days started with him and ended with him for a decade, so it's no wonder you developed an unhealthy obsession with him.  
  
To be honest, even when I declared you healthy after a year of counseling you, I wasn't sure that you wouldn't fall back into your old ways if you ever met Spock again. I would have been happy to be proven wrong, but unfortunately, I wasn't.   
  
Leave him, Jim. It can't be love, and even if it is, it's not a healthy love.   
  
Sincerely,  
Dr Francesca Grint.   
  
  
_

_*_

_  
James Tiberius Kirk,  
  
Doctor Grint tells me you haven't responded to any of her letters, too. You can't ignore us forever, young man!  
  
\- Your very angry and very disappointed mom._

_*_

_  
  
To: Captain James T. Kirk  
  
Captain, the Admiralty received your report of the mission, and while we are satisfied with your successful negotiations with Vulcans, we are highly displeased with your unauthorized decision to head for Vulcan for further negotiations, thus breaking Starfleet Regulations F-4C and D-3A.  
Upon returning to Earth, you are expected to arrive to the Starfleet Headquarters immediately for further discussions of your actions.  
  
\- Admiral Jonathan Archer  
  
P.S. Great job, Jim, but I don’t think you’ll be sitting in the command chair of the USS Lexington anytime soon. Komack and Barnett are pissed.  
  
_

_*_

_  
Dear big bro,  
  
You're probably getting a ton of hate letters from various people of our mutual acquaintance. I, too, can't say that I'm very pleased with you right now, because you caused quite a drama at our house, and you know how I _ detest  _drama. Mom is freaking out and is constantly on the phone with Doctor Grint, and Dad seems to be plotting something with Uncle Pike (I dearly hope they aren't planning to steal a ship and bring you home tied up in a sack). And I hear Starfleet isn't very pleased with you right now, to say the least.  
  
Can't do anything halfway, can you?   
  
Well, whatever. Don't let their words bother you too much, Jim. They may call it codependency, an unhealthy obsession, but if you think you love this guy, if he makes you stupidly, ridiculously happy, don't let him go. True love is such a rare gift that not everyone gets to experience, so you should grab it with both hands and bite anyone who tries to take it away from you.  
  
Just kidding! I expect you to introduce him to me as soon as possible! And don't worry, sooner or later, Dad and Mom will understand and accept him. I think.   
  
And if they don't… Well, let them hate.  
  
Love,  
Your little sis_

 

**The End**


End file.
